


why are you here

by fvckingangelic



Category: All Time Low (Band)
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Break Up, Dubious Consent, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Masturbation, One Night Stands, Post-Break Up, alex gaskarth is kinda sad, and 45 percent alex giving them a reason to be worried, and then yknow 5 percent is smut, awsten shows up for like 2 chapters and that's it, based off why are you here by mgk, gonna tag that just in case bc some things are kinda ://, i have no actual idea how to tag this whoops, i have no plan for where this is going, it's like 40 percent ppl worrying abt alex, jack is kinda horny, there's rlly not that much smut i promise, uhh
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-29
Updated: 2021-02-12
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:08:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 23
Words: 24,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24431866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fvckingangelic/pseuds/fvckingangelic
Summary: in which jack and alex are broken up and alex has horrible coping mechanisms as a result.also they're both horny.and on tour.loosely based off the song by machine gun kelly
Relationships: Jack Barakat/Alex Gaskarth
Comments: 79
Kudos: 80





	1. Chapter 1

God, it is so impossibly hard to sing songs, when you're standing five feet away from the person they were written about. More so when they happen to be _playing_ the song, seemingly unaware of it's connotation to them. And when you've broken up? You are absolutely _fucked_ , and it's a miracle if you make it through without crying.

But somehow Alex Gaskarth doesn't let a single tear fall during Oh, Calamity. 

Not to say that he doesn't come close. Of course he does. He's not entirely sociopathic, though at times people may believe him to be. _(Of course I care about Jack, why wouldn't I?)_ The liquid pools at the corners of his lids, and he blinks so much he's sure that he looks like he's blind. Which isn't quite a lie, as the tears do blur his vision, and he relies on the crowd's noise and the colorful blobs of his bandmates to orient himself.

"It's such a shame that we play strangers."

His voice pitches higher.

"No act to change what we've become," He continues, gasping for air in between lines, "Damn it's such a shame that we built a wreck out of me."

"Oh, calamity."

He steals a look behind him and that moment, right there, is when he breaks. He didn't break during Missing You, he stayed put together during Remembering Sunday, he's stayed in one piece this entire concert. But _this_ is what kills him.

Jack, his guitar hanging limply in front of him, eyes steadily trained on Alex, with a look that Alex has seen too many times before.

 _"Oh, Calamity,"_ His voice cracks horribly, and immediately he winces, praying to a God that he has never believed in, that no one heard it. If they do, they don't react, because the audience is still echoing back at him the same noise as always.

But if he's not mistaken, the guitar strums a little bit slower, almost sadder, behind him.

It's now that he notices the sweat dripping, soaking his shirt, his neck, his feet, even his fingertips — God knows know that happened, and to be quite honest, Alex is perfectly content with letting God keep his secrets right now. He's too caught up and dizzy in the lights that flash overhead, in the crowd pushing against the barricade that threatens to swallow him whole. It's hard to believe that they all came to see _him_ , _Alex Gaskarth_ , the fucking kid who never truly got over his pop-punk phase, and his friends, and they're screaming right back the lyrics that he spit out months ago.

The lyrics that reek of him and Jack.

He drops the microphone with his loose grip and it hits the stage, and even though it doesn't break, it feels like something inside Alex does, and he snaps out of the aura of the crowd, the embrace with the music he's locked in.

It's hard to remember how he got here. Of course, he made his way up here from a side stage and to get to the _venue_ , it was on a tour bus, one that is in fact waiting outside at this very second, as soon as he ends this goddamned show, but how did he get _here?_

_At which point did this many people want to hear him sing? Did it happen slowly, more people trickling in each show, or did it happen overnight, and last night's show was minuscule compared to this?_

_How did he get to being alone?_

He notices the crowd has died down, and they're watching him. Expecting him to pick the microphone back up, likely. Jack, his aforementioned band mate (and a million other things that Alex doesn't have time to get into right now), with a guitar strap slung across his shoulder, mouths at him _, You good?  
_

He forces a nod, the kind that makes his head feel like jello, and picks the microphone back up. "Thanks for coming out tonight. Goodnight." He manages to strengthen his voice and the crowd's worry dissipates, and the screaming starts again, a symphony that he loves to its depths.

At his first opportunity to, he's off the stage, and back here, away from the din, it's quieter and somehow safer. The hallway stretches out in a million directions, and if he turns down the wrong one, he might end up walking in on someone snorting coke off someone else's toes, like he did that one time in San Antonio. Needless to say, he knocks before entering rooms from now on, lest the next toes to be holding cocaine be his own.

"Alex."

He takes a short glance over his shoulder and halts, nearly stumbling. Jack is on his tail, slightly out of breath from trying to keep up with Alex's quick pace.

"You can't just leave on your own." 

Insistent on getting the _fuck_ away, Alex picks his pace back up. "Yeah, well, I'm going to."

"Dude," Jack grabs his sleeve and Alex has to try his absolute best not to cringe at the touch because it reminds him of things buried in the past. They're supposed to be buried, the edges crusted over with dirt, but in the pit of his stomach he knows it can't be truly buried until they both put the shovel down.

Jack loosens his grip slightly, his voice softening as well. "We're all supposed to leave together, for security purposes. Besides, that's not the way back to the tour bus."

"Fine." Alex relents and wrenches his arm out of Jack's grasp. "I— You don't have to worry about me, Jack." He mentions, falling into step with the brunette guitar player. "You don't have to go chasing after me every time I go running off on my own."

Jack's brow furrows, and he shoots an uneasy smile at Awsten. "I'm not chasing after you. Rian sent me."

_Sure he did._


	2. Chapter 2

Jack has a tiny confession to make; Rian didn't send him after Alex. Of course, Rian appreciated it nonetheless, because where the hell would they be if they let their lead singer go running off anytime he feels like it, _someone_ needs to reel Alex in from time to time.

On that note, while he's confessing things, let's get something else straight— he's the one that initiated the break-up. He'll take full blame for it. He's not ashamed. Regretful? Maybe a little. Happy? He's not quite sure he was happy before, and it all feels the same, now there's just a certain emptiness inside of him, and he's quite sure that that isn't happiness.

Alex is quiet as he walks back with Jack, and Jack honestly doesn't blame him but at the same time, he wishes he would end the silence. It seems to bounce off every wall and surround the both of them. Tense, he speaks up.

"You did good tonight."

It _was_ a good show, Alex was full of energy and the crowd was more enthusiastic than usual. He doesn't understand why Alex was so eager to get off stage. Sure, he seemed tense after dropping the microphone, but it was an accident. They happen all the time. Jack probably fucked up at least twenty chords tonight, but he doesn't care about that, not when there's worse things that can happen.

If they haven't already happened, that is.

Anyway, he loved tonight's show, he loves All Time Low, he loves his bandmates _(not like that, not fucking like that,_ _friendsfriendsfriendsfriends_ _, they're just friends now)_. He loves everything except for the inexplicable fact that nothing is ever going to be the same between him and Alex, because he can't look at the boy's brown hair without thinking of the dozens of times he's run his hands through it, short-breathed and panting.

Alex brushes the compliment off quickly, as if it scorches his skin, and he can't stand it. "Not really, there have been better ones." They were better together and Alex knows it. Somehow the lights were twice as bright and the crowds were deafening and every pitch was in tune when he was complicit in the knowledge that after it all, he'd be falling into Jack's arms.

"No, it really was good." Jack persists. He can feel the conversation dying off again, and Rian and Zack are still twenty feet away. It can't be silent, it can't be, because once it's silent, the only way to break it is to truly break it, and Geoff doesn't want this friendship to crack at the seams.

Alex shakes his head, and there's Zack, meeting them. "Dude, what the _hell?"_

"Sorry," Alex mumbles, "I was stressed."

"You can de-stress back in the tour bus, c'mon."

They tread to the tour bus, Alex lagging behind, and Zack takes this opportunity to ask Jack, "What's up with Alex? He's been super sad recently. I could've sworn he liked touring. Last tour, he was so excited."

It takes all of Jack's willpower to refrain from mentioning that last tour, the only thing Alex was excited about was being able to fuck him in a bunk, the small space pressing in on them both. He was excited to fall into Jack's arms backstage, as soon as the last note had been played and the lights were shut off.

Now all Alex has is a crowd of teenagers who will never truly understand what his lyrics mean, much less that they could _ever_ be about Jack.

Jack's not an idiot. He knows that a lot of songs are about him. Alex can change the pronouns to hide behind a facade and lie to interviewers' faces about an ex-girlfriend he had once, but there are certain lines that feel like a knife in his gut when sung out loud and Alex's inability to make eye contact during those songs does all but confirm it.

He realizes that Zack is still waiting for an answer, and he just shrugs offhandedly. "Fuck, man, how am I supposed to know? Maybe he's just not used to being back on tour? I'm sure he'll warm up to it."

"Yeah, I guess." Zack steals a glance at Alex. "Can't blame me for being worried. Sometimes he takes things really hard and it fucks with him, I wish I knew what had happened this time."

 _I happened,_ Jack thinks silently, and the words beg to fall, to release him of this secret. The band deserves to know. They deserved to know before, when they were still together, but Alex was absolutely terrified and forbid Jack from telling anyone. Jack guesses the promise he made still stands, but _fuck_ , it would be so good to tell.

"Want me to talk to him, later?" Jack volunteers, just so Zack will stop worrying.

He nods, his face brightening a bit. "Yeah. I'm sure he'll talk to you about it if something's bothering him. You two were really close before."

It's Jack's turn to nod, and he does so, coughing so he doesn't choke on his own lies. "Okay." Alex and Rian are already inside the tour bus and he lets his voice trail off as he and Zack get in.

Alex is staring out the window. He doesn't spare either Jack or Zack a glance as they enter, instead burrowing further into a hoodie.

Jack should talk to him and he can feel Zack's eyes begging him to; like a siren that won't stop calling. But he shuts both his mouth and his eyes and instead chooses to sleep on the way to the next town.


	3. Chapter 3

Crashing the tour bus would be so insanely satisfying. Alex can almost taste the flames, the metal bending until it breaks, and better yet, the knowledge that it's all over.

It's the metaphor that he loves. Let it all burn down, let him walk away covered in ashes, let Jack burn. (He could never actually do this—he'd gladly sacrifice himself to the devil if it meant Jack would never be harmed again. Let's just say he still cares a whole lot.) It's a climactic end to it all, what he and Jack deserved, because the best love stories are only as good as their endings.

Only there's two barriers in his way. One, he's not the one driving the tour bus. Two, he's a fucking _baby_. He'd start bawling if he even scraped another car, so the notion that he could crash a bus and kill everyone inside it is extremely farfetched.

Instead, he sits isolated in his bunk, even though it's well past midnight, because his eyes won't stay shut. That's a lie. They do stay shut, almost too easily. He's just fucking terrified of the scenes that flash behind the lids, as they each wrack him with sobs. The tour bus walls aren't soundproof either, judging by the snoring coming from Rian's bunk.

It's dim; he wants to turn the lights on but that would only serve to wake everyone else up, and he has to keep his insomnia to himself, because if that leaks out he's terrified a billion other things will leak out along with it, and he has to stay sealed and contained. Alex Gaskarth cannot break, not now.

He burrows his face into his pillow and lets the silk envelope him, muffling his breath. He can't breathe. And that's a good thing, because he thinks that maybe he should not be able to. Only it is so much more than a _maybe_ , it's definite in his mind, that it would be better for everyone if he suffocated right here and now.

He hears a tap on the wall and rolls over to see Jack peering at him.

"What?" He croaks, hoping Jack didn't just witness his sub-par suicide attempt.

"I—" Jack pauses, staring at the space above his head. "Nevermind, go back to sleep."

"I wasn't asleep in the first place." Alex sits up. "What?" He holds his breath, only this time it's a subconscious act, almost scared of what Jack is going to say.

Jack sighs. "You okay, dude?"

"Why are you asking?" Alex mutters. Jack doesn't get to ask him how he's feeling anymore. He lost that privilege when he broke up with him. He drops Jack's gaze and instead stares at his hands.

"You didn't have this much trouble sleeping last tour."

He's about to snap back with something snarky, something about how sleeping together was a billion times easier than sleeping alone, but before he can spit it out, the venom on his tongue cools down to a blue flame in his heart. "Shut the fuck up Barakat." And that ends up being snarky enough, because Jack does in fact shut the fuck up.

He hovers over Alex's bunk for another minute, maybe thinking of how in the hell he's going to fix Alex, but he ends up returning to his own. Alex sighs in relief. There is no fixing him. There is only breaking, and shattering, and that's been done. There's still shards of him embedded in Jack's hands and the shards don't fit back together.

Once something has broken, all that is left to do is to break it even more, so Alex has greedily accepted it as a new hobby. Long gone is his hobby of hanging around Jack, his obsession with the boy's hair, and the sex, _God,_ the fucking sex. 

Those hobbies have since been replaced with bathroom floors and the taste of metal.

_Heh. Taste._

Maybe not the best word to describe it, because last Alex checked, there weren't taste buds embedded in his skin cells. But then again, he can always taste the blood in the back of his throat, the same blood that pours onto hotel bathroom floors from his veins; it tastes like metal, so really he isn't wrong.

Now Alex isn't an idiot, he knows that his wrists should be fair game for anyone to look at. He tried to save them only for when he was really panicked, and he couldn't do it anywhere else, but those "only" times turned into every time, and now he wonders if he'll ever wear short sleeves again. 

There's a few scattered in various other places, a few higher up, close to his shoulder, some light scars on his thighs, one or two on his stomach, before his wrists became the exclusive. Sometimes he'll still make a mark there, just because his arm is so fucking damaged already.

He rubs at the raised skin on his wrist, and it burns, but he digs his finger harder into the skin regardless, because it can't burn as much as his thoughts of Jack.

For a second he wishes Jack were still here, because he's so masochistic that he wants to rub salt into the wound until it burns away. Until he burns away.

"Rise and shine y'all." Rian is getting up from the bunk next to his, and it is now that he takes notice of the sunlight peeking through the blinds.

It is 7:04 a.m. and Alex Gaskarth has not slept a single wink.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> stream stay gold by BTS or i'll eat ur knees 🤩🤩


	4. Chapter 4

"Did you talk to Alex?" Zack asks Jack. Alex is huddled in his bunk with a notepad, presumably writing the next album, too far away to hear the conversation, and Rian has headphones on, so they're safe.

Jack nods; the motion feels strange.

"Did he tell you anything?"

He almost resents the look in Zack's eyes because it seems hungry and begging for answers. Then he takes notice of the lines engraved into the skin and realizes that it's only out of worry. But the answers in his possession only raise more questions, so he swallows them down and invents new ones.

"Yeah. I was right. He's fine. Just adjusting back to tour. His sleep schedule's a little off, he told me to let him get some extra rest this morning." He subtly motions to Alex.

Zack's expression doesn't change, but the lines do grow a little less deep. "Okay. If you're sure that's all it is."

"Of course, man. If it was something bigger, we'd know by now. He trusts us. Maybe we should trust _him_ and stop talking behind his back?" He raises an eyebrow.

"Okay, okay." Zack relents. He shoots another questionable look at Alex before shrugging and returning to scrolling through social media on his phone.

Which leaves Jack as the only one not occupied with an activity, so he settles into his own bunk with a paperback. He's read it maybe a dozen times before, but Jack never really cared for new things. He liked what he'd already grown attached to, _what he knew_ , like the fucking brunette on the other side of the tour bus who is acting as if Jack never knew him at all.

He can hear the shallow waves of Alex's breath, in and out, and he times his own to match. It's faster than his normal breathing, and his eyes flutter closed. Just to flutter back open again when he realizes that he's hard.

Fucking hell. Fuck his stupid dick, that thinks faster than his brain. Fuck Alex, who still has the ability to turn him on, after _months_.

His eyes dart to the other members, and he's relieved to find that none of them are looking at him. He reaches up to the curtain over his bunk. "Gonna take a nap," He mumbles to them, and Rian gives a sort of half nod, the only one to acknowledge him, and he thanks God for that, because if Alex had been the one to look up, he could not have been able to hide the red hue splattered across his cheeks like paint on a canvas.

Jack pulls the curtain closed and sighs, laying back. He pulls the sheets over him, so that he can easily pretend to be asleep if someone looks in on him.

Then he lets his right hand travel down to his crotch. Palming gently, stroking through the denim of his jeans. Not so much jerking off, not even foreplay, just a sensation that keeps him calm. His breath is no longer in tune with Alex's; now more labored, quick pants, and he thinks that the rest of the band might be able to hear him but he can't bring himself to care.

He unzips his pants, pushes them down enough for him to grip himself. The touch makes him gasp; he can't remember the last time he did this. With Alex he never needed to, and after, he couldn't bring himself to, everything, even down there, was fucking _numb_.

Biting his lip, hard enough that he thinks it might be shredded before he can even orgasm, he jerks his hand up and down. The movement feels so fucking good. Good enough, that he has to stop, so he can turn and let a quiet moan into his pillow.

Jack pauses before he continues; the only audible noise is a pen scratching on paper, which he attributes to Alex's. The rest of the bus is quiet so he lets himself continue. Soft, slow strokes that build up to quicker ones, he's so close, _God_ , so _fucking_ close, he can _taste_ it in his throat.

Something thuds before he can reach it.

He sits up, bunching the covers around him, ears perked to determine the source.

A couple seconds pass before Alex's voice pipes up with a "Fuck me, I can't write in here." Another thud sounds, and Jack now realizes that it's Alex banging his fist on the wall in frustration.

"Why not?" It's Zack.

"I'm not _inspired_. No offense, but you guys are less interesting than whole wheat bread."

Jack tunes out Zack's response, too eager to return to his activity before he grows flaccid. He skips the slow strokes for this round, instead desperately giving in. He bites his lip once more, (and judging by the taste that fills his mouth he's finally drawn blood) before finishing on his stomach.

He takes a second to bathe in the pure ecstasy of it all, God, it feels like it's radiating off of him, and he thinks that life without Alex is not that bad after all. He thinks that he might be able to get over him. He thinks that this moment might last forever.

But it does not, because if it did, therapists would be out of business.

Now he thinks about what he has done, jerking off within less than ten feet of Alex. It's stupid, maybe even a little creepy, and above all, gross, or at least that's what he thinks about the white streaks on his skin beginning to dry.

God, he's so fucked.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hahaha turns out writing sexual scenes is actually kinda cathartic doe


	5. Chapter 5

None of the words that Alex puts on paper look right. They _sound_ right to him, when they're jumbled up in his brain with other words, but purged into a notebook, they only seem empty and worthless.

Kind of like him.

He's scratching out yet another line, when Jack emerges from his bunk, face reddened and clothing wrinkled. He ekes out something to Rian and Zack, and joins the former in a discussion that Alex is too far away to hear.

He doesn't have to hear it though, to know what Jack has been up to for the past twenty-three minutes (yes, he was counting, sue him). His face is too obvious, and he'd be lying if he said that he couldn't recognize the sound of Jack's orgasms from a mile away (God, he sounds like such a stalker).

Honestly it's not surprising that he now has a hard-on of his own, but he hates it all the same. His jeans cut into him, too tight, but he doesn't give himself the satisfaction of release. It's probably considered another kind of self-harm, and isn't that fucking _great_ , he's stacking up the different kinds faster than Jack can get over him.

He scrawls something.

_thinkin' about you, you're in my head  
even without you, I still feel dead_

Alex hates it, but that's nothing new, because he's starting to hate everything he's ever made. He hate his other songs, because he's so sick of singing the same lyrics about Jack every night. He hates his fame as a whole. He hates his relationship with Jack, because he had a part in that too. And above all, he hates the marks on his arms but he still keeps making them like his life depends on it. _(In all honestly, maybe it does.)_

He stays in his bunk until they arrive at the venue, and even then he doesn't move until Rian prods him out.

So instead he hides in a bathroom backstage, and he thanks God that no one has come to check on him, because he is propped up against the chipping tiled wall with a Gillette blade that's been hidden in his phone case since the beginning of tour. The sleeves of his sweatshirt are pushed up past his elbows, and if someone were to come in, he'd be irrefutably fucked.

But no one does and that's kind of a good thing, but he translates it to no one caring much about his whereabouts, so it becomes a sort of bad thing as well, the kind of bad thing he takes out on himself. 

His blade sure is getting a workout today.

It's not until long after he's finished, that someone finally knocks. His phone case has been replaced, as have his sleeves, but he's still sitting on the floor staring at the tiles. He stands and unlocks it to find himself face to face with Jack.

"Hey," He says, maybe a bit too breathlessly. "Why are you here?"

"Why are _you_ here?" Jack replies quietly. "We're on in fifteen."

"Okay." Alex nods, and darts his eyes away from Jack's, not able to hold his gaze for any longer.

"You okay?" Jack makes a half-hearted reach for Alex's arm, but Alex flinches backwards too quickly.

Alex stares back up into Jack's eyes and remembers that morning. Tour bus walls are too thin, and Jack was too loud, and Alex is too fucking lonely to let it go.

"Why did you say my name?" He blurts out.

"What— When did I say your name—"

"This morning." Alex is trembling now, his cheeks darkening red, and Jack finally catches on, his eyes widening. "I can fucking hear you Jack."

Jack doesn't respond, so he presses on. "You can't break up with me and then months later still be jerking off to me, that's not how it works, that's not how it _fucking_ works, Jack. Do you like when I say your name? _Jack. Jack. Jack._ Would you rather hear me moaning it?"

 _"Yes."_ Jack's voice cracks.

"Then fucking make me." Alex stares at him and pushes past, wincing as his sleeves rub at his wrists. It already stings a hell of a lot, but his conversation with Jack makes him think that it should sting so much more, and he has to force his knuckles into his mouth so he can bite down on them so he doesn't reach for his phone case.

He heads backstage to find Rian and Zack and a bunch of crew members whose names he can't recall, all of them pissed at him.

"Dude, we're about to get on stage, where the _fuck_ have you been for the past hour?"

"Where's Jack?"

"What the _fuck_ have you been doing?"

"Alex, dude, don't you want to wear something else onstage?"

The last comment is made by Zack, looking at him with pure concern; he's not angry like the others.

"You know how hot it gets out there, right?"

Alex fingers the collar of his sweatshirt, because it's true that he is sweating unbelievably bad underneath it, but he can't take it off. He shakes his head at Zack, gives his best attempt at a grin and lies one more time for the night.

"Tour's already wearing me out, I like wearing something comfy. Besides, I don't bully you for your fashion choices." His voice is soft but strong, and Zack concedes.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever." He passes Alex his guitar. "Come on." 

Alex looks over his shoulder to see Jack has followed them, and is tuning his own guitar, avoiding Alex's eyes.

"Come on, man, Jack can take care of himself." 

Alex nods and steps up to the microphone.

The curtains fall to reveal a crowd, nearly indistinguishable from last night's, and with them fall Alex, leaving a caricature of himself who only exists to perform.

"Manage me," He starts, and that's all it takes for the energy in the crowd to grow exponentially. "I'm a _mess."_

At least this version of him tells the truth.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i have nothing to say except stream 30 by badflower


	6. Chapter 6

Jack doesn't take his eyes off Alex during the show, still reeling from their interaction in the bathroom.

 _'Then fucking make me'_ , what the _fuck_ does that mean? He knows what he thinks it means, but suddenly he doesn't trust his own memory, because there's no fucking way that Alex meant that. And if he does, then _why?_

His fingers are fumbling over the frets on his guitar, enough that the other members shoot glances at him, eyebrows raised, making sure he's doing okay. With the exception of Alex of course, who has returned to pretending he doesn't exist. During shows, Alex is in a bubble of energy that he couldn't break even when they were together.

The end of the concert is what he dreads, even though he's just as miserable up on the stage, watching Alex sing about him and having to play the same damn chords. The song finishes, the crowd loses its mind, rinse and fucking repeat until the time is up.

When the encore comes and they launch into Dear Maria, his fingers are numb. Everyone seems to have stopped paying concern to his subpar playing, so he stops completely halfway through the second verse. Again, no one cares.

Except for Alex, who obviously feels the lack of strumming, and for the first time since they got on stage, they make eye contact. It hurts. But he can't stop looking and he thinks he might drown in them, and God, he thinks he might want to.

 _"Take a breath and let the rest come easy,"_ For a split second, Alex sheds his fearless stage persona, and shrinks into himself, his voice cracking on _"come easy",_ and just as soon as he snapped out of it, he slips back in and turns back towards the crowd. _"Never settle down, cause the cash flow leaves me."_

Jack gives a few half-hearted strums before the song finally ends. This time, Alex isn't quite as eager to run off-stage. A grin that looks almost real plasters itself across his face, as he bathes in the din of the room. Jack allows himself to embrace it as well, forgetting the tension built up inside him, and it works. He's better than he was when the show started. They both are.

They're exiting the stage when Jack feels a thin hand wrap around his wrist, yanking him towards one of the side rooms. It's Alex. Then it is both of Alex's hands, one clinging to each wrist, pushing him up against a wall, while Alex's eyes stare him down. They're both soaked in sweat, but Alex doesn't mind, and Jack isn't in much of a position to object.

Alex opens his mouth to say something, but the words don't come, and all he can do is stare at Jack wide-eyed. Then Zack's voice sounds loudly from around the corner.

"Alex? Jack? Where are you? We have to get back."

Alex pulls away wordlessly and they rejoin the rest of the band, neither one being spared a second glance, even though Jack can't tear his own eyes away from Alex. The walk back to the tour bus drags on, longer than it should be.

Inside, they each head to their bunk. It's too late at night and they're too low on energy to even chat about the show. Jack almost speaks up, to ask a conversation starter, to comment on the crowd, to suggest ordering take-out even, but he ends up doing none of those because the words die on his lips and he keeps his mouth shut and curls up in his sheets instead.

After what feels like hours of him trying and failing to fall asleep, he stumbles over to Alex's bunk. He's sleeping, still in his sweatshirt, which Jack finds a bit odd, but then again no one ever really makes completely conscious clothing choices on tour. He nudges his shoulder and Alex jolts awake.

"Yeah man?" He rubs at one of his eyes, the other peering at Jack. He sits up begrudgingly and blinks.

Jack pauses and re-contemplates what he's doing here. "You can go back to sleep, it doesn't matter. Nevermind." He walks back to his own bunk and buries himself in it. He hears a few light footsteps before they taper off. Maybe Alex went to follow him but gave up. Who fucking knows.

He's horny again, god-fucking-dammit, and he makes a promise to himself to chat up the groupies tomorrow. Fuck one of them, maybe, or at least get one to blow him, because God knows they wouldn't mind. That's all anyone ever fucking wants from him. Really what they want from everyone in the band. Except Alex, because he gets people who relate to him, too, the ones that cling his lyrics tightly to their hearts. Sure, his fans are horny too, but at least some of them actually care.

All anyone ever thinks about Jack is that he's the "kinda hot guitarist", because he has no lyrics for them to tattoo on every inch of their bodies, not nearly as much visibility to the crowd as Alex, he's just _there_.

He kinda wishes maybe he wasn't, and that's too much of a thought for 1 a.m, because he knows the kind of thoughts that will follow after it, so he closes his eyes and it's surprisingly easy for him to slip into sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> we do be vibing to folklore by taylor swift ✨


	7. Chapter 7

Alex hates the new lines on his wrist.

Actually, that's not really the right words for it. He doesn't know how to find the right words, because currently, he's preoccupied with stopping blood from flowing out of his wrist. _Fucking goddamned arteries._ The blood drenching his sheets might be some sort of warning sign to anyone else, to hint that if he isn't careful this habit will lead him into a deadly fate, but to Alex it's just a minor annoyance.

And as soon as his sheets are covered and the wound stops bleeding so profusely, he makes another line. Which brings him back to his hatred of them. It's not the lines itself. It's the reason. He fucking hates that he's cutting himself over Jack, and he hates that Jack is less than twenty feet away while he does it.

He ekes out lines until he feels something. That something turns out to be a stinging pain that travels up his arm, but it still distracts from the emptiness, so he takes it as an excuse to put his razor back.

Jack isn't even really the reason; it's more complicated and messy than that. Alex is a complete trainwreck without him, spiraling, and he thinks that Jack would be able to put him back together. Is that the same as missing him? He doesn't know. All he knows is bathroom floors and the sound of silver on skin, and he cuts himself because he doesn't remember ever feeling so alone.

He's alone in the tour bus, the others exploring the city. Today's a day off, so they're staying in the city where they played last night. 

As he replaces his phone case, he checks for new texts. None at all. He starts to type one out to Rian asking where he is so they can meet up, just to delete it halfway through.

Instead he texts Jack.

 **Alex:** do you want to meet up for dinner somewhere? with everyone else too if they're around?

He only adds the last part so it doesn't look like a date, because even though the lines are blurring, that's one he can't bring himself to cross.

 **Jack:** yeah sure. meet you at the burger king on greenwood road tonight at 5:20? i'll text the guys

 **Alex:** k

Sometimes he shocks himself with his own courage. He slips his phone back into his pocket with shaky fingers and leaves the bus, but not until after he's googled a map of the city so he knows how to get to Burger King. It's only 5:07 but he doesn't care much to go anywhere else, so he figures he'll sit on a bench outside for awhile.

What he doesn't expect is to find Jack already there on a bench, nibbling on the edges of a burger. He raises an eyebrow at Alex in greeting. "No one else that I texted wanted to come, and I was already hungry, so. You can go get food, I'll stay and keep you company."

Alex does.

The place is dingy inside. Grey tiles under his feet. Suspiciously dim lights. An overworked cashier who's eyes are ringed with blackened liner. There's easily at least three other Burger Kings in this city and Jack had to choose this one. 

Still, it smells good, much like he expected, so he steps up to glance over the menu. He's not that hungry in all honesty. He scans the items, cringing. Maybe it's the state of the restaurant that's ruining his appetite. He briefly considers getting a drink at the very least, and then imagines grimey water running from a tap, and feels nauseous.

He heads to the bathroom instead, which is just as trashy as the rest of the restaurant, even more so considering how many people have pissed in it. Regardless, he sinks to the floor, because panic attacks do not wait for cleaner surroundings. They just happen, and it's happening now, the pain racking his lungs, cutting off his blood circulation.

His first instinct is to dig in his pocket for his phone case, dig out his addiction just to point it back around at himself, and hurt himself. Because maybe if he bottles up enough hurt, no more will come, and he will finally be full of it. He can't bring himself to pry it open though, so he shoves it back in his pocket and leans his head against the wall instead.   
_  
Fucking fuck fuck I hate Jack I hate this fucking Burger King I hate him and I hate that I don't hate him._

He rakes his fingers across the surface of his arm, and it's not enough. Never is. Nails are too short, and too dull, and somehow not as satisfying to watch as metal.

The door bangs open, and as soon as it does, he's jolting up from the floor. God forbid anyone see how low he gets, metaphorically as well as literally. 

Jack stares at him.

"Are you okay?" He asks, and Alex's face is crumpling at the question, and he steps towards Jack with one hand reached out.

Jack takes it, and Alex pulls him close, chest to chest. "Make me be okay, _please_."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> new season of umbrella academy tomorrow!!!!!!! hhh !!  
> also friendly reminder that comments are nice and i love them <3


	8. Chapter 8

The surprise of Alex basically offering himself up to Jack brings a chill down his spine, and he has to study Alex's eyes to make sure that he is completely sober. Aware of what he's doing. Aware of what he's inviting upon them. Aware that this is a line that has been boarded up with brick walls, and assuring that they are both ready to take the sledgehammer to the wall.

Alex twitches, uncomfortable with Jack's unrelenting gaze, and lets his gaze fall lower. "What the fuck are you waiting for?"

Nothing. He's waiting for nothing. This is what he's been waiting for, and now it is right in front of him, but something about Alex seems off. It's not new, the same offness that he's retained this entire tour, but it seems louder right now.

He kisses Alex, who doesn't hesitate to return it. Alex tastes like diet soda and sweat, and he forgets about the offness, because this is nothing new. This used to be his favorite taste and he used to fucking gorge himself on it, a neverending treat. He mouths against Alex, hungrily, lips mixed with tongue.

Alex leans on him heavily, and he can feel their ribcages moving together, melting into a mutual pool of marrow, and they slip on the pool and fall back into each other. _Falling, falling, falling,_ fuck it, maybe _crashing_ is a better word, he thinks, as they sink to the ground. He barely notices the grime on it, and maybe that's better because if he did, he would remember where they are, and it would break the spell between them.

He tries to tug at Alex's shirt, push it up, feel his chest for real. Hold him, skin to skin. Alex shakes his head against him and pushes it back down. "No," He mumbles against Jack's lips. "Don't." He grips the sleeves of his hoodie tightly before reaching to tug Jack's off instead. Jack's cheeks fade to red as his chest is revealed. He pulls Alex back in, whining slightly in his ear as the singer's leg brushes against his crotch.

Alex only brushes it again, a smirk playing on his lips, and pulls Jack toward him, his neck specifically. Jack gets the hint and plasters the skin with kisses, soft ones, and harder ones that will bruise and be a pain in the ass to cover onstage later.

He tries to get what he can of Alex's chest as well, the triangle of skin right under his neck that isn't quite hidden by the hoodie. Finally, Alex sits up, satisfied, and loops his fingers through the belt loops of Jack's jeans, tugging, begging with his eyes for Jack to let him. He does, and the jeans are quickly discarded with his shirt. Alex's jeans follow soon enough.

Jack tries to urge the hoodie off once more, before Alex can pull his boxers off. 

He slips his fingers under it to touch Alex's stomach, and it's not that that Alex has a problem with. He grins up at Jack. It's when he starts to lift the hoodie and whisper "I want to see all of you," that Alex clings to it and frowns.

"I'm cold, leave it alone, Jack."

Jack is already sweating from foreplay, and he's sure Alex is too, but he doesn't push it. Doesn't know how to.

Instead he reaches for his boxers, and Alex lets him, although watching with a slightly pained expression. He seems to be holding his breath, but he lets it out when he sees Jack's gaze is fixated only on his cock.

Jack reaches out again, this time with only one hand, gripping it. Alex whines softly at the touch. Jack takes it as an invitation to move his hand, stroking. He brushes a thumb over the head, eliciting more sounds from Alex.

He takes Alex into his mouth, engulfs him with the heat of his mouth. He feels Alex shudder against him. A hand running through his hair, pulling. A voice crooning _"Jack..."_

He feels more in control of himself than he has for months. He's not quite sure how he could ever give this up, this feeling right here, head between Alex's legs, at his fucking mercy. He knows why he did of course, because there is more to a relationship than this, there are vile parts of it, and he made the choice to have no parts at all.

But with his cheek against Alex's thigh he thinks that the vile parts might just be worth it. 

Alex is fucking his face now, moving against him, fingers twisting in Jack's dark hair. He's unaware of the thoughts running through Jack's head, focused only on how fucking good he feels. After all, that's his new hobby, fucking himself up for a small burst of serotonin. 

Alex shakes his head and pushes against Jack, swearing, "Fuck, I'm gonna _come, Jack_." And he does, a searing feeling that pulses through him, filling him up, til he's fucking full of pleasure. It bleeds through his skin, soaking him in the aura of it, and he moans Jack's name the entire time.

Jack swallows.

Both of their chests rise and fall at the same pace. Jack looks up at Alex with a look that Alex can't decipher. He sits up and reaches to pull Alex up from the floor. "Lex—"

Alex jerks away at the sound of his old nickname and pulls his boxers and pants back on. Then he runs, pushing the door open to squeeze through it without looking back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> look i thought this was good when i wrote it like 3 weeks ago but that was 3 weeks ago and also im a lesbian so idk why i think my opinion on gay smut has any merit at all
> 
> anyway here <3


	9. Chapter 9

The tour bus.

That's where Alex needs to be.

Not here, this street in front of Burger King, where the sidewalk is almost as filthy as the bathroom he just got a blowjob in. He shivers, regardless of the warm hoodie he's wrapped in, and crosses the street without looking both ways. He doesn't get hit. It's almost a miracle.

He walks a little further before he looks back, and when he does he sees Jack standing outside the Burger King. Alex can't see the expression on his face from here, and that's good, because his chest already hurts, and seeing Jack's face might be the thing that finally makes his heart give off.

The tour bus is on the next block and he darts inside when he reaches it. Rian is inside, flipping through a magazine and he nods to Alex, opening his mouth to greet the vocalist. "Hey, man, where you been? Zack went t—"

"I don't care where Zack went." Alex hisses, walking right by. He almost gets through, but then Rian grabs his elbow and he freezes, his hoodie feeling thinner than ever.

"Alex, dude are you okay?" Rian's thumb brushes over the fabric, unaware of the cuts underneath.

 _"Yes."_ He's still frozen, too scared to move his arm a single inch.

"No you're not." He pauses. "Zack told me he was worried about you. But then he said Jack told him you were fine... Are you really, though?"

Alex bites his lip and has to fight the urge to bite right through the flesh. _Why the fuck is everyone talking about him behind his back?_ They don't need to be worrying about him, he's fucking _coping_. No matter what the method is, it's helping him deal, so who gives a shit if it ends in a tiny bit of blood?

"I'm fine. I don't know what the fuck Zack is on about." He pulls his arm from Rian's grip finally, trying not to wince as his skin starts to burn.

"Alex." Rian sighs. "You're not the same. You were never like this before. What happened? We're here to help, dude."

"Stop worrying," He spits. "You don't need to, I promise." He pushes past, and this time he gets through. He collapses in his bunk, immensely grateful that their next show isn't until tomorrow night. The itch to hurt rises up inside of him, and he almost caves. Almost.

But then he sees Rian still looking at him, still in his field of view, and he knows he can't. Instead he slips his right hand into his left sleeve and digs his nail into the skin. Tiny crescents of hurt. All that he can get away with. He wants to drag his nails through, leave long scratches, but that might be too conspicuous.

Rian finally stops looking and Alex pulls out his phone to see a slew of texts.

 **Jack:** Alex?

 **Jack:** I'm sorry if I did something wrong

 **Jack:** you wanted it, right?

 **Jack:** I'm sorry

 **Jack:** I'm really confused and I don't know what you want from me, but I'm sorry

Alex doesn't respond to any of them, and instead opens up Instagram. He finds a picture that one of their crew took the other day of him backstage, and studies it, contemplating a caption.

_Call me a name, kill me with words,_   
_forget about me it's what I deserve_

It's perhaps the most pathetic thing he's ever done; he's such a fucking attention whore, and his scars only attest to that, don't they? Only thing that makes it more pathetic is the fact that he doesn't want attention at all. He wants the illusion of it.

He presses post.

Plenty of comments stream in by the minute. Some nothing more than heart emojis; some taking the caption as a hint that they're going to play Jasey Rae at tomorrow's show; some wishing their best, a bit worried. And then there's the ones that blatantly disregard his caption entirely, ignore _him_ entirely, and instead tear into him; they ask for more when he's barely able to give.

 **gaxkarthwhxre_63:** I love you Alex 😍🥰 Can you be my boyfriend, my last one broke up with me, you're all I want 😥

 **mychemchi8:** My grandma died five minutes ago 🙄😫

 **chelseabmth_27:** 😳😳 that's hot

 **for-b4ltimore:** Can you write out the lyric "i don't think i wanna be saved" for a tattoo?

 **panic_horizon_veil_in_reverse:** alex rlly said 👁👄👁

 **jungkook_tiddies:** 💜💜💜💜💜 you guys should collab with BTS

 **alltime.rose:** I tried to kill myself last night to Remembering Sunday

It's the last one that sends him over the edge, even though it's quickly buried under other comments. He shuts his phone off. He would normally reply to a few, and like several, but he can't bring himself to do that.

He hears someone else enter the bus, but he doesn't look up to see who. Instead, rocks back and forth, fingering the case surrounding his phone. Pops it open, so he can touch his blade with his fingertips.

Whoever entered is talking to Rian, their voices echoing, and Alex thinks he might have time to make one line. Maybe two. Perhaps much more, but he doesn't want to push his luck too far. If he gets one line he will be content. That will be _enough,_ he promises himself. He slides it out, the metal flat in his palm and releases a sigh.

"Alex?"

Fucking _fuck._

Alex closes his hand into a fist quickly, but he's not sure that it's quick enough. Jack is leaning over him, voice lowered. "You okay?"

"Yes," He forces out, teeth gritted. He doesn't like how Jack is looking at his hand, like he wants to reach out and hold it. If only he knew what was in it.

"Alex you can't just... after that... Can you not shut me out for once?"

Alex closes his eyes and retracts into his hoodie, softening his voice. "I'm sorry, I have a headache. Later we can talk, I promise. I don't wanna think right now."

"Okay."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello i start school tomorrow [senior year hhh] so u know what early update bc i'm panicking and writing is the only thing that keeps me calm


	10. Chapter 10

Alex doesn't keep his promise. At least, at first. He barely even looks at Jack, on the few occasions that he comes out of his bunk. His gaze instead rests on the wall behind him, or even just his crotch, and Jack doesn't know which one is worse. He goes to bed finally, because he's sick and tired of being on tour and he wants to sleep it away.

Then he wakes up at just before midnight to find a body pushing against him. Arms grapple at his own, and he opens his eyes, but he doesn't need to, because he can tell by the scent who it is.

"Alex," He whispers, staring at him. "What the fuck?"

Alex shakes his head slightly, his hair falling down over his eyes. "Shhh." He nods towards everyone else in their bunks. "I'm here to return the favor." His fingers dig into Jack and when he finds that Jack is in only boxers, he reaches down to pull out Jack's cock and grip it, which is already hardening by the second.

Jack bites back noises that he so desperately wants to make, and reaches for Alex's wrist to stop him. Alex hisses at the touch and Jack blinks and retracts his arm.

"Alex, can we _talk?_ "

Alex shakes his head, or at least that's what it looks like in the darkness. It's just a quick movement, his hair strands flickering with what little moonlight has seeped inside the bus.

"There's nothing to talk about." He brushes his thumb over the head, and Jack winces. "Fuck, can I just get you off first? I feel bad. I'll talk after." He grips him with both hands now, jerking him. "Remember when we fucked in Zack's bunk last tour?"

"That was your fault, because you were too horny and confused to remember which was yours." Jack says and smirks before dissolving into soft moans as Alex pushes his tongue against him, licking at the base. _"Fuck, Alex, fucking hell..."_

He reaches to grab Alex, hold him in place, because God, he doesn't want him to stop. Yet at the same time he does, if only to ask what the fuck has changed in him. He seems lighter, happier, like they have never broken up, like all those months have never passed, and he never left Jack's bed.

Jack's desire to come wins out over his confusion and he says silent, fingers twisting in Alex's hair. He pulls his legs apart, making room for Alex, who whines slightly at the tug. Then he silences himself by taking Jack fully into his mouth.

Both of them are silent now, Jack not even able to express how good he feels in anything other than whines that Alex tries to cover with one hand over his lips.

Alex tastes the pre-come on the tip. He pulls away, it dribbling down his chin.

"If you moan, I'll fucking kill you." He whispers, and wraps both of his hands around the base of Jack's dick. Jack nods, and bites his lip while Alex strokes.

Alex is straddling him now, looking down at him, and with the minimal amount of light visible, Jack notices that he's in a t-shirt for what must be the first time in months. He reaches to touch him, feel his skin, because God knows he misses it. Alex shrugs away quickly and instead licks a stripe along Jack, panting the whole time. He knows the effect his hot breath has on Jack.

"Fuck," Jack has to force his voice down to a whisper. "Stop fucking teasing, Lex, God..." Alex stiffens at the nickname but he doesn't run this time.

"Fine." He releases his hands. "Fucking come, Jack." Then his mouth is back on Jack, and Jack is hitting the back of his throat, and Jack falls apart. Evaporating against the sheets, slipping down Alex's throat, (God, why is his throat so tight?) Jack feels like he is everywhere, spread out in a display for only Alex to enjoy.

It feels like forever before Alex lets him go. He half-heartedly wipes at his mouth and lays down next to Jack. "What did you want to talk about?" His voice has lost the dominance it had previously, now shaking.

"What's up with you?" Jack's voice is shaking too, but only because he's still in that post-orgasmic bliss state. "You're different."

"We're different." Alex counters.

"Is that what this is? Different?" Jack pauses. "Do you want to keep screwing around?" He voice drops into a pleading lilt without meaning to.

"Yeah." Alex flops down next to him, pressing his back to Jack's chest, curling into him. Partly muscle memory.

Jack consents. "Okay." He reaches to wrap his arms around Alex, but just as quickly as Alex relaxed into him, he is freezing back up and he gets out of the bunk, subconsciously running his fingers along his arms.

"Don't."

Alex stalks back to his own bunk.

The next morning, Jack tries to pry information out of Rian while everyone else is still asleep.

"I really don't know anything, Jack, fuck, I wish I did." Rian rubs his hand across his mouth and frowns. 'I tried to get him to talk yesterday when he got back, he shut down and told me I didn't need to worry." He pauses and connects something. "You were with him yesterday, right? I think you told me that you guys went to Burger King?"

Jack can't deny that so he nods. "Yeah. We, uh, _had a small argument_ , but it wasn't a big deal. It probably explains why he was more closed off yesterday, but he's been off _this whole tour._ "

Rian shrugs. "Look man, I'm worried too, but you can't go judging him off the _vibe_ he gives off."

"Have you ever seen him without long sleeves?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello 👉👈 we got some more smut 😳😳  
> stream punch by NCT 127 bc i've been bopping to them a lot lately ❤


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello minor eating disorder mentions in this chapter—  
> so warning for that <3 stay safe  
> it's not going to become part of the plot, so i don't think it's necessary to add it to the tags, it's just some thoughts that Alex has <3

Alex's first move of the next morning is to pull his hoodie back on. It was fucking stupid of him to see Jack without it on last night. He came too close. He has three hoodies that he's been switching back and forth between all tour, but they're all starting to get kind of dingy and gross. Not to mention the bloodstains on the inner part of the sleeves, from times when he didn't have the luxury of waiting for his arms to stop bleeding.

He has a few plain long sleeved tees, and he would switch to those, but when he tries to pull one on, he frowns at how form fitted it is. He doesn't like that it's easier to make out his shape. The shape of his arms, his chest. Fine, he'll fucking admit it— he's starting to kind of hate his body. The alarms should be going off in his head because God, he already cuts himself, what's next? Starving himself, like an anorexic teenager?

Alex is not anorexic. The word makes him cringe, and he knows that he isn't lying to himself for once. It's not him. Sure, he looks fucking gross, and disgusting, and maybe he _should_ go fucking starve, but he doesn't want to. He'll take his wins where he can get them.

He pulls on one of the few t-shirts he brought along, an oversized one so he can still masquerade his body, and studies his arms for several minutes. In one of his bags he finds a couple old bracelets from the Warped Tour era, the rubber kind that he would stack up. He does that now, and he finally feels confident enough to emerge.

Jack and Rian are deep in conversation, but they break off, turning to stare at him.

"Hey, Alex," Rian says, smiling. "You want breakfast?"

He shakes his head before the question has even fully registered.

"I'm not very hungry."

He doesn't miss the way they stare at his bracelets, and he fidgets with one subconsciously before heading back to his bunk. Pulls the curtain over it closed, and yanks the bracelets off, one by one. He hates them suddenly.

It's all so fucking stupid. He can't hide it forever. The longer he hides it, the more questions he'll get, and if he doesn't hide it then—

Alex lets out a quiet sob at how absolutely fucked he is. The worst part is it's his own fault, no one to blame but him, so he decides that the punishment should fall on him as well. This might be the first time he's cried as he cut. He nearly slices his fingertips removing the blade from his phone case, and hisses.

He marks up further, closer to his shoulders, because there's really no point in keeping any part of his arm clean. There's no part that he can safely expose without exposing the underside of his wrist, so _fuck it all_ , make it _all_ fucking bleed.

His t-shirt is light yellow, though not for long, as red stains are starting to bloom, crusting over into brown. When he's stopped bleeding, content in what he's done, he yanks the shirt off and buries it under some of his other belongings, and pulls a hoodie on.

He makes a mental note to buy more hoodies at some point, or at the very least, stop by a laundromat.

He doesn't come out of his bunk again until around noon, and he finds that Jack is the only one around, heating up ramen in the microwave. He hears Alex's footsteps and turns. "Do you want some?"

"Sure." Alex buries his hands into his pockets. 

Soon enough, they're crouched around a tiny bowl of noodles, knees just barely touching, eyes avoiding contact.

Jack swallows a bite and asks, "Why didn't you want breakfast?"

"I wasn't hungry." Fuck Alex not being anorexic apparently, because food is slipping lower and lower on his priorities. Even the ramen in front of him right now kind of makes him nauseous. He chokes down some noodles anyway and forces himself to look up at Jack.

"Can I kiss you?" Jack asks.

Alex nods, grateful for the opportunity to do something with his lips other than eat.

Jack shifts away from the bowl, pulling Alex off to the side, leaning him against the wall. His lips graze Alex's, and for a short second, they just breathe in each other. Then Jack pushes up against him, and Alex gets to taste the guitarist's lips for the second time in recent days.

They're warm from the broth, and Alex allows himself to dissolve in them, come apart totally and fully. Jack's fingers twist around the collar of his hoodie, choking Alex a bit, not that he minds it.

Alex pulls away, panting, having summoned the courage to ask something he's been wondering for months.

"Why'd you break up with me?"

It ruins the mood. More akin to a lightning bolt than a question, striking in the space between them. Alex shakes.

"I don't know." 

Jack starts to open his mouth to elaborate more, but then they are interrupted by someone entering the bus.

Alex yanks himself backwards, stumbling and falling on his ass. Jack retreats as well, but he does so slower, almost regretfully.

It's Zack, staring at them and the forgotten bowl of ramen on the floor.

"Did I interrupt lunch?"

Jack reaches for the bowl, turning to offer Zack some as well. Zack starts to say something but Alex is already slipping away, disappearing back into his bunk. He can't stand any of his bandmates anymore. They all give him the same fucking look, this weird mix of compassion and confusion, staring like they're trying to peek under his sleeves. But they can't know about that. Not yet, at least.

Jack isn't the exception to that, he looks at Alex like that too. Alex is just still in love with him enough to be able to put it aside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i think i've made a tradition now in each chapter of telling y'all to stream whatever song i'm currently obsessed with so uhhhhh stream 100 gecs
> 
> this isn't a joke lmao i've finally caved and i see the hype around them i love it sm
> 
> have a good day/night <3


	12. Chapter 12

Rian chooses to arrive back at the tour bus shortly after Alex has sealed himself back in his bunk. Jack is still staring at Zack, flustered from him walking in.

"Did Alex eat with you?" Zack is firing off at Jack.

Jack nods. "Yeah, dude, why?"

"Does he seem okay to you?" Rian pipes up.

Jack shakes his head. "Yeah man, of course." He's lying, but he's not Alex, he doesn't have exclusive access to his thoughts. To him, Alex is coping at the very least, so it's fine, and they all need to stop worrying.

"Did he eat anything this morning?" Rian asks, "He didn't want breakfast, and I didn't see him eat anything else."

"Am I supposed to be an expert on Alex?"

Zack frowns. "You were worried about him too the other day. Come on, you said—"

"I know what I said," Jack snaps. "But I don't think we should push him, or go around ganging up on him like this." He gestures vaguely at the three of them, then points to where Alex is huddled in his bunk, hopefully too far away to hear them.

"What if it's something bad?"

"It's fucking Alex, dude."

Jack doesn't know when he became so defensive of Alex. Maybe when he realized that prodding Alex only pushes him further away. Maybe because he's really enjoying the short bits of time he gets with him lately, and he does not want to think of what could be below the surface.

Or maybe there's just nothing to be worried about at all, in which case he's stupid and naive, but he doesn't think about that.

He doesn't think about Alex at all again until soundcheck, when the boy emerges in a flannel, the top buttons undone just enough to reveal that he isn't wearing anything under it.

He fiddles with the knobs on his guitar while waiting for the show to actually start, casting looks at Alex from the corner of his eyes. Alex is fiddling with his sleeves.

The show isn't much different from the other ones so far. Jack plays this one the whole way through, and it's a bit therapeutic in all honesty. Tension ripples down his back, through to his fingers, entangling in the sound and breaking free of him, and he feels lighter than when the show started.

Backstage, when the show ends, he meets with a few fans. They do this sometimes, when they're all feeling up to it. Surprisingly, Alex feels up to it as well, and he joins Jack and the rest.

Jack signs one girl's shoulder, right under a tattoo of the All Time Low logo, and gives her a signature on her poster as well, because he wants her to have one that won't wash off. He signs the pride flag from a couple of two young guys, and he has to stop himself from saying how much he can see himself and Alex reflected in them. He turns to the next girl, and after signing her album, she asks him to call Alex over for her.

He does so, and Alex comes over, smiling. He scrawls his name next to Jack's, and the girl flushes and replaces the album back in her bag. The motion pushes her sleeves up, revealing scars, and both Jack and Alex take notice immediately.

For Jack, it's an alarming concern, and he immediately starts to speak, "Hey, you okay?" He doesn't notice Alex, stock-still beside him, the blood having drained from his face.

She bites her lip and nods. "I've been clean for almost a year. Since your last album came out. It really helped. You guys saved my life." She pushes her sleeves back down and plays with them, in a motion not unlike the one Alex was exhibiting earlier.

Jack doesn't know what to say, so he doesn't say anything at all, and hugs her instead, then sending her off. He's about to talk to another fan, when he registers that Alex is still next to him. Alex is pale, paler than Jack has possibly ever seen him, staring after the girl. His arms are crossed tightly across his chest, fingers gripping at his ribs, like if he squeezes hard enough he might break.

"Hey.... Alex?"

Alex seems to wake up and steps back. "What?"

"Are you okay?" It's possibly the first time that Jack has actually meant this question.

"Yeah, I'm just— Just got caught off guard." He keeps backing up.

"Alex," Jack steps towards him. "Can we talk?"

"Later." Alex looks uncomfortable and mumbles out, "We can talk later, um— Meet me in the bathroom at 12:05?"

He's already backing away again, so all Jack can do is nod. Alex looks slightly comforted by the nod, but not by much. He slips down a hallway, and Jack contemplates following him. Then a boy with green and blue hair gently touches his arm.

"Can you sign my shirt?"

He nods, and pulls one of his sharpies out of his pocket, scrawling his name onto the fabric. When the kid's gone, Jack finds Zack, who's thankfully not occupied with a fan.

"Hey— Where's Alex?" Zack asks, his eyes scanning over the area, searching for their vocalist.

"He left."

"What do you mean he left?"

"I don't know, he got kind of weird with a fan and said he was going to go take a break or something—"

Zack stares at him. "What do you mean by weird?"

"The fan had some scars— yeah, they were scars, they weren't new, at least I don't think so— and told us that listening to our music had helped her stay clean, and Alex was like—" Jack's voice cracks. "He was like, really, pale."

"Why?"

"I don't fucking know, Zack!"

Zack shakes his head. "I'm gonna go find Rian." He walks off, and Jack pulls his phone out to see that it's already 11:59.

Close enough to 12:05.

He heads down the same hallway Alex went down earlier, because he thinks that's where the bathroom is, and pushes the door open to find Alex.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> it took 12 chapters but i finally put a reference to the song this fic is named after 👁👄👁  
> h e h 
> 
> anyway stream Kill the Sun by Cane Hill   
> i have no reason for this, it just came on shuffle rn lmao ✨


	13. Chapter 13

Alex starts at the sound of Jack opening the door, his shoulders stiffening up. They drop when he sees Jack, a smile floating up to his face.

"Hey," He mumbles, already pressing himself against Jack, pushing into the skin, like he might sink into him.

Jack pulls away, though he hates himself for doing it. "Are you okay?"

 _"Yes._ " Alex emphasizes it, already barely remembering what just happened out there. "I've just been distracted." He runs a hand down Jack's chest, trying to convey what he can't form into words. "I just want to—" He looks up at Jack, with the biggest puppy-dog eyes he can manage.

Jack stares at him, forcing himself not to give in. "Alex—"

"I want you to fuck me."

 _This is so fucking stupid,_ Alex thinks, _it's the stupidest attempt to change the subject in history._ But he knows he's not the only one who wants this, and if he pushes this hard enough, Jack will drop the subject of him being okay. And he can pretend he is for one more day.

"Alex—" Jack starts again.

"Do you want to fuck me, Jack?" His voice holds something stronger, and he doesn't want to name it.

"That's not what—"

"Do you want to—" Alex hisses the next part: _"Fuck_ me, Jack?"

Jack swallows. 

" _Yes._ On one condition."

Alex quirks an eyebrow up.

"Take off your shirt."

 _"No._ " Alex's response comes so quickly, he doesn't even realize how scared and defenseless he sounds until after it's spoken. He winces, and tries to backtrack, but Jack is already speaking over him.

"Why not?"

"Because I don't want to, Jack." Alex forces a chuckle, that builds up into a laugh. "God, come on— What if someone walks in?— It's quicker to pull up my jeans than pull my shirt over my head." He reaches down and unbuttons his flannel, exposing his chest while keeping his arms safely covered by the sleeves. "Is that good enough for you?"

He kisses Jack then, ruining any chance of a response. While keeping their lips sealed together, he takes Jack's hand and presses it to his own chest. He hopes Jack can't hear how loudly his heart is thumping.

He pulls away with spit dribbling down his chin, a mix of both of theirs. " _Please,_ " He whines.

"God you are such a fucking bottom." 

Alex breathes out a sigh of relief. Jack has finally dropped the subject, and he kisses him again out of sheer gratitude. Jack's fingers twist in his hair, pulling at it the slightest bit, and he whines again.

Alex is near the wall and Jack pushes him against him, almost slamming his head into it, moving to grind against him. Tension builds between their hips, and Jack has to bite down on his lip to keep from crying out. He pulls away before he spills his come in his pants, and beckons for Alex to take his pants off.

He does so, nervously, worried about the scars on his thighs. Granted, Jack didn't notice them last time, and they're really not that visible unless you know what you're looking for, but it scares him all the same. 

Jack looks past the thin white lines ( _Thank fucking God for that_ ) and unzips his own jeans. He replaces his hands on Alex's chest, keeping him pressed to the wall. "You okay still?" He asks.

Alex nods, swallowing the lump that has formed in his throat. "Yeah."

"Okay." Jack offers up a bottle of lube from his pocket _(For someone so unwilling at first, he sure came prepared,_ Alex muses) and prepares them both, Alex watching shakily. Not quite sure why he's shaking, but he trembles nonetheless.

Jack is gentle with him, letting Alex bury his head in the crook of his neck when it's too much. And it is too much at first, Alex whining against Jack's skin. It's been too long since the last time they did this. Eventually, Alex quiets, and his whimpers turn deeper, more needy, which Jack takes as a sign to continue.

Alex rests his head on Jack's shoulder, sinking down into him, comfortable with the pace of the movements.

Jack soon finishes in Alex, shaking, one hand wrapped around Alex's dick, and soon enough Alex has finished too, on their stomachs. Sweat beads along Alex's forehead, dripping down the surface of his chest, mixing with Jack's.

"You okay?" Jack asks for the second time that night, this time as more of an afterthought.

Alex nods and slowly detaches himself from Jack. He wipes up his stomach, and the rest of him, and struggles back into his jeans, trying his very best to ignore the way that Jack is looking at him. He can tell that he's remembered why he was so worried about Alex in the first place, and he needs to get the hell out of here before Jack starts asking him questions again.

He buttons his flannel, pulling his hands deeper into his sleeves when he's done. He heads for the door, and for a split second wants to kick it wide open, let the light of the hallway shine in, but then remembers Jack is still half-dressed, and he still has decency within him, so he only opens it wide enough for him to slip through.

He passes their manager, who starts to call him back, but he keeps walking. A crew member comes up to him, coming at him from the side where he doesn't notice until it's too late. They grab his sleeve, and he turns to see their face, and he sees Derrick, a guy that's been on several tours with them.

"Hey Alex— I've been trying to get ahold of you all tour, but you're really elusive—" He shakes his head. "Anyway I remembered that movie we were talking about months ago, and I found it in my basement. You're free to b—"

Derrick cuts himself off for possibly the worst reason of all.

Alex's right sleeve has slipped down to the middle of his forearm _(God-fucking-damnit, Derrick—_ ), and Derrick's eyes are round, focused on it. _It could be worse_ , he tells himself, _so much worse_. This is only a small portion of it all, and it's significantly less than the damage that covers his left.

"Alex?"

Every emotion built up inside Alex at the point begs to seep out, the pressure threatening to explode him. He swallows it all down and pushes past Derrick, probably harder than he should.

The walk back to the tour bus is quiet.

He can't tell if he likes it that way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahahhahahaha u all get smut AND angst for this chapter <3  
> anyway stream nobody's listening by point north


	14. Chapter 14

Jack can't sleep and for maybe the first time in awhile, it isn't because of Alex. Or maybe it is, because everything is starting to lead back to Alex, even his sleeping patterns. He hovers in the space in between their bunks, in between _everyone's_ bunks, terrified that the wrong person will wake up. Terrified that the right person will, as well, because he doesn't even know what to say to Alex.

He ends up staring at Alex's sleeping form through the small crack in the curtain over his bunk, his arms slung over his pillow, his legs curled up into himself, and he thinks that he can detect tear tracks on Alex's cheeks and the cloth of his pillow. 

Jack's foot squeaks on the floor. Rian stirs, and in a panic Jack retreats to his own bed.

It isn't for hours that he falls asleep.

He's the last one to wake up, and he finds that that is only because Zack has shook his leg. He sits up, rubbing at his eyes, and blinks at his band mate. "What's up?" He frowns.

"Hey. Sorry to wake you up but I wanted to talk about Alex."

Jack straightens up. "What about him?" He wonders if there's something he doesn't know, that Zack does.

"Do you think that we should try just..." He pauses. "Try talking to him?"

"We _did_." Jack settles back down, reaching to pull the covers back over his face. "Look, if he doesn't want to open up to us, then he doesn't. Maybe he just has to deal with it himself."

Zack catches his hand, stopping him from grabbing the blanket. "You _know_ what he's doing. Why don't you care?"

"I don't know what he's doing, Zack! If I did I wouldn't be fucking talking to you, I'd be talking to him!" Jack spits, dumbfounded as to what Zack is talking about.

" _You do know_ , you just don't want to think about it!" Zack gets in his face, locks their eyes together. It's so terrifying it's almost funny, and Jack fights to keep a laugh down. "Think about it. Why haven't you seen his arms in months? Why is he so secretive and angry lately? Why did he freak out over seeing scars? You know what he's doing."

"Yelling at him isn't helping, Zack," Someone pipes up, and for a horrible second Jack thinks Alex has heard them, before Rian moves into his field of vision. He sees Jack's face and adds "Alex went to get McDonald's for breakfast. He won't be back for at least another twenty minutes."

"You don't know for sure what he's doing." Jack tries to keep himself calm. Force his chest to not rise or fall too quickly, keep the oxygen in his lungs for as long as he possibly can. He doesn't know why this revelation is such a surprise; Zack is right, it's the explanation that makes the most sense. But at the same time, it seems to contradict the very idea of sense. _Alex wouldn't do that to himself_ , Jack knows him, he knows that Alex could never do that. Wouldn't even cross his mind.

"Well there's something up with him," Zack whines. "Come on, man, we don't need to argue. I hope you're right and we're wrong. But as I was saying, we need to talk to him. Like all three of us."

"What, corner him as soon as he comes back with the food?"

"No Rian, we'll let him eat breakfast first. We're not _that_ cruel." Zack cracks a smile, one that isn't returned by either Jack or Rian.

The time crawls by at an agonizing rate. Jack finally pulls himself out of bed just to pace the length of the tour bus and even though the other two watch him worriedly, they don't stop him. Jack itches to tell them how much more he knows, just how insistent Alex is on keeping his arms hidden, even during sex, but he also doesn't want to make Alex mad by telling them about their relationship. Or their _whatever_ , because this isn't a relationship anymore, it's Alex begging him for sex and Jack trying to pretend everything's okay and giving him what he wants.

He keeps his mouth shut, despite his yearning to do otherwise.

Alex comes back, tosses the bag of McDonald's onto one of the counters, next to where Rian is sitting. He passes each of them a breakfast sandwich, and takes a bite out of his own, unaware of everyone's eyes on him. They don't say anything, and eat silently.

Zack is the last one to finish, and when he does, he turns to Alex. "Are you okay?" The others wince at how blunt he sounds.

"Yeah."

Rian breaks in. "Are you really?"

"Yes." Alex hisses. "What the fuck is this, an intervention?"

Jack finally speaks, somehow managing to keep his voice from shaking as much as his body. " _Is_ there something we need to intervene about?"

Alex freezes. " _No._ I just— I'm fucking stressed over tour, the same fucking shit as usual. I'm tired, aren't you guys? And I know I've been shutting you guys out, okay, I'm sorry I didn't mean to. But like—" He inhales. "I'm fine and everything— "

His phone buzzes in his pocket. Twice. It went off while they were eating too, but everyone had ignored it. Alex pulls it out shakily and puts it on silent, but not before Zack has caught a glance at the screen.

"Why is Derrick from crew texting you?"

Alex stiffens and shoves his phone back inside his pocket. "Nothing, he's just telling me about this movie he saw— I'll text him back later."

"Bullshit."

Zack storms off, and Alex stares wide-eyed at Jack and Rian, almost pleading with them to believe him. After a second, Rian goes off after Zack, turning back to mouth at Jack "I'm sorry", leaving Jack and Alex holding a staring contest that neither one dares to break.

Jack hates that it's this awkward between them, even after last night, and everything they've been doing. He hates that he knows what Alex tastes like and that he has to pretend that he doesn't. He hates that he doesn't know what's under Alex's sleeves and he hates that he can't get up the courage to ask him, or hell, pull them up himself.

He wonders if maybe Alex was right when he started using sex as a distraction, so he opens his mouth. "Can I kiss you?"

Alex nods before he's even finished speaking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> proud of this chapter :)  
> also very proud of the next one, hehe >:) i promise the comfort will kick in vv soon
> 
> anyway stream Animal by Sir Chloe <3


	15. Chapter 15

Alex has kind of fucked up.

Maybe, kind of, just a little bit.

Maybe the cut streaking down the center of his wrist is not as big of a deal as his brain is screaming at him it is. He inhales, and it's more difficult then it should be.

Maybe he shouldn't have let Jack spend an hour making out with him, because it wasn't doing anything other than postponing the inevitable. Maybe he should have responded to Derrick's texts, either told him the truth and made him swear not to tell anyone in the band, or made up some elaborate lie and claim there was absolutely nothing on his arms. 

Maybe if he had, he wouldn't have spiraled into a panic attack upon arriving at the venue, because of how terrified he is of running into Derrick again, and locked himself in a bathroom stall, and done this to himself.

He replaces his blade in his phone case, because maybe if he isn't looking at it, he'll calm down, but all it does is stop him from making more (Which is, from an objective point of view, a good thing, but from Alex's, it just hurts).

"Alex?" It's Rian.

He lets his head slam into the wall. Fuck, they found him. The relentless texts from them told him they were looking for him, but he didn't really think they would. Of course, by hitting the wall, he's just confirmed that he's here, so fuck.

"We're on in an hour." Fucking hell, Zack is here too, and if he had to guess, Jack isn't far behind.

Alex distracts himself by staring at the jagged line along his arm. It's still bleeding. "Go ahead without me." 

" _Lex._ " It sounds like Jack is right outside the stall door and he thanks God that he had the foresight to lock it.

" _Go._ " Something in his voice drives home the point, because he hears sighing and faint whispering, before there are footsteps shuffling away and the door closing.

His hands are slick with blood, and so is a good portion of his arms due to him smearing it everywhere on accident. He rinses his hands off and some of the larger smears of blood, the rest will be covered with his hoodie. His face is splotchy, reddened from crying, and he scrubs furiously at it, doing nothing but making it worse. Eventually, there's nothing left for him to do to postpone coming out.

He thinks that everyone else will be backstage, warming up, already having forgotten about him. He'll slip into the group unnoticed. 

What he doesn't expect, is for Zack to grab his arm the second he steps out. He hisses, and pulls away, but Zack is already staring at him, suddenly frozen, and with a rising terror Alex realizes the last time he saw this look it was on Derrick.

"Alex," Zack pauses. "Why is there _blood_ soaking through your sleeve?" His hand is faintly stained with red.

The words settle into Alex like weights, and with horror he realizes the rest of the band is still here too.

"I—" He doesn't finish the sentence and pushes past, finding himself in front of Jack instead. He tries to push past him as well, but then Jack makes the stupid decision to grab his arm as well.

" _Let goooo_ ," He whines, fighting Jack's tight grip. He forces himself to look up, directly at Jack. "Ow, ow, ow, ow, _fuck_ , _let go_!"

Jack drops it, when he sees how in pain Alex is. "Show me your arms."

"No." Alex doesn't even know why he's still fighting it anymore.

"Alex," Rian stares at him. "Pull up your sleeves or we're calling off the show."

"You'll call it off even if I do."

"Why? What's under your sleeves, Alex? Is it that bad?"

Alex doesn't respond, and instead scrunches his arms against him, holding his rib-cage. He's spiraling into his second panic attack of the day, and thankfully Jack notices.

"Hey...Hey Alex, it's just us." He speaks softly. "It's safe. We're not gonna be mad at you. No matter what you do." He gently brushes his thumb over Alex's knuckles and tries to ignore the flecks of blood still embedded in the skin.

Alex swallows, and grips the edges of his sleeves, a motion that no one misses.

"Alex? You don't have to show us then, okay? We just want to talk about it," Rian says.

Perhaps acting out of spite, Alex then takes in perhaps the biggest breath of his life, and yanks both sleeves up.

It's quiet.

It takes a grand total of thirty seconds before Zack finally breaks the silence. "Fuck— Fucking hell, Alex— How did you— I'm calling off the show." He pulls his phone out and starts furiously texting someone, presumably their manager, and Alex is too miserable to protest anyone else knowing.

Jack won't take his eyes off his arms. Particularly the longest one, that he just made, that's still welling up blood. The other ones call for concern as well, just by the sheer multitude of them, but this one is most urgent.

"Were you— Were you trying to—" Jack doesn't finish his sentence.

" _No_!" Alex yells. "I'm not trying to kill myself!"

Rian speaks quietly. "What were you trying to do then?" Before Alex can respond, he says "Look, man, you need medical attention. Can we take care of that before we talk about anything else?"

Alex begrudgingly nods and Rian dashes off to find a first aid kit, leaving him with Jack and Zack. Zack has stopped texting and he walks over to Alex, pulling him into a hug. 

"Hey, the show's cancelled. We'll cancel tomorrow's too if we need to. We're gonna deal with this."

"You don't need to." Alex speaks into his shoulder, guilt rising up from the pit of his stomach. _It's not that big a deal._

"Yeah, we do."

Rian returns with the first aid kit, and he starts to open it right there when Alex stops him.

"Can we at least..." He swallows. "Go back to the tour bus? I don't like it here."

The tour bus isn't much better than this cramped hallway, but at least it's familiar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hnnngh 👉👈   
> comments would b appreciated considering this is the most important part of the fic and i'm vv scared to post it!  
> 🥺🥺
> 
> also today's song rec is district 9 by stray kids! i'm sorry that half the songs i recommend on here are kpop but it's become my comfort music lately


	16. Chapter 16

They herd Alex into the tour bus, pushing him towards his bunk. He sits down, regretfully, sticking his arm out. Rian, still holding the first aid kit, pulls out disinfectant, dabbing it on the wound while everyone watches.

" _Fuck_ , Rian—" Alex yanks his arm back towards his body, but Jack grabs his hand and pulls it back out. He squeezes it, and it's maybe the first comforting thing he's done since he saw Alex's arms. Regardless, Alex doesn't squeeze back, and he doesn't look at Jack either; eyes trained on the floor. He doesn't pull his arm away though, even when Rian adds more disinfectant, soaking his entire arm in it.

Rian wraps gauze around it and reaches for his right arm.

"You don't need to do that one." Alex swallows. "Those aren't fresh."

"Still."

Alex sighs and pulls up his right sleeve to his elbow.

Zack can see even more lines, peeking out. "How far up do they go, Alex?"

Alex's voice grows smaller. "To my shoulders." Before anyone can ask him to, he sighs and takes his shirt off, revealing the scattered cuts on his upper arms. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be," Rian mutters, cleaning the wounds. As soon as Rian lets go, Alex pulls his arms in, the sleeves falling down, squeezing his rib-cage. He curls into himself.

"Alex?" Rian puts a hand on his shoulder. 

He doesn't move.

"Alex...." Zack taps his knees gently. "It's okay."

Alex pulls his legs up, shrinking into a ball.

Jack moves to sit next to Alex and puts his arms around him, pushing him into his chest. "Lex, we gotta talk about this." He strokes Alex's hair as the boy starts to sob. "Lex— _Alex_ — Can we talk about this?"

He buries his face in Jack's neck and mumbles, "What do you want to know?"

Unsure, Jack shoots a look at the others.

"How long?" Rian asks, closing the first aid kit.

"Awhile." Alex pulls back from Jack and nibbles on the edge of his thumbnail. "Like— Back in high school. But I only started relapsing again right before tour started." He avoids looking at Jack suddenly.

Zack asks, "Why?"

"It's nice," Alex mumbles. "It's calming."

He doesn't miss the looks they give each other.

"Is that the only reason?"

"No." Alex stares down at his hands.

"Lex...What did you use?"

"A razor," He says, weakly.

Rian looks at him. "Can I have it?"

" _No_." His hand subconsciously shifts towards his back pocket, to grip his phone before anyone else can.

"Lex— Give me your phone."

Of course Jack notices. Of course he does, because he knows Alex too fucking well.

Alex yanks his phone out of his pocket and tosses it at Jack. It almost lands on the floor (and it would surely crack if it did, judging by how hard he threw it) but Jack scoops it up and pops the case off.

The thin piece of metal is revealed and Alex hates the way that they all stare at it, a look faintly tinged with disgust. 

Jack picks it up and holds it carefully between his fingers, looking straight at Alex.

And Alex finally realizes how hurt Jack is.

His eyes are dark, and he looks like he's angry at Alex, like he could murder him right now, but then his glance flickers down to the razor blade in his hand and Alex realizes that that's what he's really mad at.

Thing is, the razor blade almost feels like a part of him, so Jack's gaze at it still hurts really fucking bad, and Alex's fingers drift towards his wrists, absentmindedly scratching at the scars.

"Do you have any others?" Rian asks, pulling him back to the situation at hand.

"No," Alex blurts out.

He really doesn't.

His fingers start scratching harder, and Zack takes notice of what he's doing.

"Alex."

He doesn't stop.

" _Alex_." He reaches over and pulls Alex's hands off.

"You promise you don't have any more?"

Alex shakes his head.

"Okay then." Zack lets out a sigh. "That's good." 

Alex thinks that this situation might be the furthest thing from good. He doesn't argue so. Instead he pulls his sleeves back down over his hands and asks, "Are we done?"

"No." Rian jerks a finger towards the general direction of the venue. "We're not going to do this, and just take away your blade and then go back out there like nothing happened, Alex."

"Why not?"

"You're hurting yourself."

"Yeah, well, I've gone on stage twenty minutes after—" Alex stumbles over his words. "After doing this—" He gestures vaguely at the blade in Jack's hand. "And I managed fine. So this can't be much harder."

By the looks on his bandmates' faces he can tell he's only made it worse.

Zack hesitates. "Look man, I know that this is like, an addiction, and taking your stuff away isn't going to work until you fix the problem that caused it. If you don't wanna tell us your personal business, then fine, but we're not going to let you hurt yourself."

"Okay, cool, I get it." Alex barely digests Zack's words. "I'm not fucking stupid."

"Never said you were."

Alex pulls his arms against his chest and lets his head fall forward, avoiding Zack's eyes.

Jack sighs. "Look how about we all just go to bed. This can wait— Give us some time to think."

Alex nods, eager for the pressure to be taken off of him, perking up for the first time that day.

"Yeah, sure." Rian relents and Zack grunts in agreement. They reluctantly get up and make their way to their own bunks, leaving Alex alone in his.

Alex is quick to bury himself under his blankets, pulling the covers over his face until it starts to suffocate him. Sweat trickles down his cheeks onto his pillow, but he doesn't move, instead taking in short little breaths.

It's calm here.

It's safe here.

Here, it's just Alex and a ratty pillowcase he's owned since middle school. Here, there is no one that knows about his arms, there is only him and the thoughts that caused his arms to be like this in the first place.

He rolls over, moving the blankets just enough for a bit of air to seep into his lungs. It doesn't, and his chest hurts so bad that he could cry, but he _can't move_.

Alex pulls the blanket down, only enough to reveal his eyes, and stares at the ceiling of the bus.

_So this is what panic attacks are like._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello hehehe  
> back at it again with more comfort (and a little bit more hurt >:)
> 
> also i feel legally obligated to tell u all to stream tickets to my downfall by machine gun kelly, since this entire fic was supposed to be based on one of his songs so uhhh go stream my man's album it SLAPS !!


	17. Chapter 17

Alex doesn't know what they do with his blade.

He doesn't ask. He isn't sure why.

He could, it's not like they'd lie to him. (Probably). They likely just tossed it in some trashcan out in the middle of the street, not a big deal. Maybe one of them is holding onto it until they can find a safer place to dispose of it.

He hates that he's so fucking sentimental to a piece of metal that's rusted with his own blood. And he hates that he never thought to hold onto more than one blade at once.

He musters up the courage to attempt to ask Jack the next morning, over breakfast. It isn't much of a breakfast really, the members leaning over the few counters in the tour bus with whatever foods they still have lying around.

"Jack?" His voice is timid.

"Yeah, Alex?" And then his face is turned on Alex with this sorry fucking look that has been present since last night, and Alex knows if he brings up the blade Jack will only look sorrier. He closes his mouth as quickly as he opened it.

"Nevermind. Forgot what I was going to say." He absentmindedly scratches at his sleeves ( _Why do scars have to itch so bad?_ ) and pushes away the bowl of dry cereal he was eating. His appetite is gone.

"Alex?" Jack repeats, the worry on his face increasing.

"It was a stupid question, Jack, just forget about it." He stands up and he watches Jack's gaze land on his bowl instead, and he knows what the guitarist is thinking. 

Rian and Zack are staring too, and Alex makes a frustrated noise but doesn't say anything, because what's the use? Let them think he's anorexic, it doesn't fucking matter at this point. It's just going to keep getting worse. _  
_

_He's_ going to keep getting worse.

He gets too caught up in the storm of his thoughts to realize that Rian has announced something to the group. It only registers as a distant mumbling. In fact, he doesn't come back down to Earth until Jack grabs his arm, gently yanking on it.

It hurts like hell, but he keeps his mouth shut because he is so _fucking_ sick of Jack feeling sorry for him.

"Did you hear what Rian just said?"

Alex shakes his head, and there's that fucking look again, _fuck_.

"We're going to be cancelling the rest of the tour."

_(no no no no no no oh my god)_

"You can't do that!"

"Yes we can, Alex."

"I'm the vocalist," Alex protests. "Doesn't my opinion in this matter?"

"Yeah, Alex, it does." Zack reaches for his hand just for Alex to yank it away before he can grab it, glaring at him. "You know what matters even more? The fact that you're hurting yourself and you won't talk to us about it, you're still pushing us away. You said before that you were fine, and it was just touring that was making you tired. So fine, we'll cancel the tour. Less stress for you."

"I talked to you about it."

"You gave us a razor blade and some very vague answers." Rian cuts in. "We're not going to force you to tell us anything, but we're not going to go out there performing like everything's fine, when it's clearly _not_."

"So what?" Alex bursts out. "You send me home, and then what? I'm alone in my apartment? With the freedom to go to the drug store and buy more razors whenever I fucking please? Your logic is _fucked_ , just like me, I'm fucked either way. This is just how I am, get used to it."

"This—" Jack gestures at Alex, his voice on the cusp of a yell. "—Is not how you are!"

"Like you know," Alex scoffs.

"I do, Alex, I think I know you, and it's _not_ you."

"Then you don't know me."

"Alex—"

"You don't." Alex bites on the edge of his nail. "It's to deal, okay? It's me dealing with what happened."

Suddenly Jack is silent.

"I'm dealing with it," Alex repeats, mostly to himself.

Rian interjects. "What are you dealing with, Alex?" 

Alex doesn't say anything. Instead, his gaze slowly rises from his hands, landing on Jack. Rian and Zack follow it, and they know that some piece of the puzzle has just been unlocked.

"Jack?" Rian asks.

"...Alex— What are you—" Jack's voice is shaky, reserved.

"I'm _dealing_."

"This...This isn't dealing, Alex." 

"Yeah, it is." Alex bites his lip. "Sure, it's not a _great_ way of dealing, but it _is_ dealing. Don't lie to me and say that it isn't. I—" He shakes his head. "Fuck."

He shoves his way past them, and no one grabs him for fear of hurting his arms, so he slips out the door of the tour bus easily.

"Alex?" Zack half-heartedly calls after him.

Rian shakes his head. "He'll be back."

"Yeah, but will he be back with his arms in the same condition?"

"Fuck." Rian sighs. "He's a grown man, and he's already gone though. We can't do anything."

Jack nods, and that's when they all remember how Alex was looking at him.

Rian swivels around, eyes narrowing in on his band-mate. "Why was Alex looking at you like that?"

"Long story."

"Not a good enough answer." Zack folds his arms.

"Fine." Jack rubs at his temples and closes his eyes. "Alex and I...kind of had a thing. Months ago. Closer to, like a year ago. It wasn't recent. I broke it off. I'm guessing he didn't take it well."

"You...you guys were dating?"

Jack groans. "Yeah."

"Why didn't you tell us?"

"Alex didn't want me to!" 

"You know that we would've been supportive, right?" Rian's eyes are wide, softened at the edges. "Don't ever think we wouldn't be."

"I know. I don't know why Alex wanted it to be secret, he just did, so I went with it, and I wasn't going to out my boyfriend."

"Okay," Zack says slowly. "But that's not all of it, is it? Because it still doesn't add up."

Jack inhales. "Fine, it's not. There's more."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> look i need u all to know that i have no plan for this fic and i don't know where it's going lmfao !! so that's fun !! we get to see where it goes together !!!
> 
> anyway gn im going to bed stream i'm not mad by halsey


	18. Chapter 18

"When I said I guessed Alex didn't take it well— I lied, okay, I wasn't just guessing."

"You _what?_ "

Jack ignores Zack.

"I know he didn't take it well. I saw how badly he was taking it."

Jack chews on his bottom lip, eyes flitting back and forth between Rian and Zack.

"I broke up with him, because I was scared, okay? It was going well. Like, really well. Like, holy fuck, I was in love with him. But good things aren't supposed to last, right? Like, it was going too well. I got— I got really scared. So I ended it. Hold on, let me find the text, I'll show you."

"You broke up with him in a fucking _text_?"

"Rian, that is far from the worst thing I did."

Jack scrolls through his phone, his tapping being the only sound resonating through the tour bus. It surprises him how far he has to scroll up, how much him and Alex have texted since then, how long it's really been since it happened.

 **Alex:** do you want to meet up for dinner somewhere? with everyone else too if they're around?

 **Jack:** yeah sure. meet you at the burger king on greenwood road tonight at 5:20? i'll text the guys

 **Alex:** k

That conversation was only two weeks ago.

Jack re-reads it, remembering what happened in the Burger King bathroom, what's happened since then, and has to put his phone down to catch his breath.

At some point he's going to have to tell Rian and Zack about that too.

"Hey. You okay?" Rian's hand is on his shoulder and Jack shakes it off.

He resumes his scrolling. "Yeah. Just give me a second." Only now he's scrolling down instead of up, and he sees the texts that followed that conversation.

 **Jack:** Alex?

 **Jack:** I'm sorry if I did something wrong

 **Jack:** you wanted it, right?

 **Jack:** I'm sorry

 **Jack:** I'm really confused and I don't know what you want from me, but I'm sorry

He puts the phone back down and doesn't pick it up.

"Jack?"

He doesn't look at Zack.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

Everything is wrong.

"Okay, I need to tell you guys something else first. I— I lied about it being months ago."

 _Jesus Christ_ , why won't they say anything, say _something_ , stop him from talking, because he knows Alex would kill him for this.

"I mean, it was months ago, I wasn't lying about that, we were together months ago, but it's—" Jack rubs his palms together, collecting sweat in them, because sweating and shaking is all his body's been doing for the past few minutes. "It kinda started again."

Rian and Zack are staring at him, still not quite grasping it.

"A few times since tour started, we've been, like, together." He spits it out. "Only I don't even know what you want to call that. Just casual hooking up. Not even really talking."

"Wait— So did you know? About him—"

"No!"

"How—"

Jack doesn't let Zack finish. "He wouldn't let me see his arms. At all. Like, even when— you know, I don't think I have to say it—"

Zack nods quickly, beckoning him to keep talking.

"I know that that's weird, and I thought it was weird too, but I wasn't thinking that much, and I _should_ have been thinking, but I also didn't really care that much, so I just stopped asking him about it. I stopped caring about it."

"That's not your fault."

Rian is so quick to comfort him, reassure him, but Jack doesn't take any of it.

"Yes it is."

"Jack—"

"I kept telling you that he seemed off, and we were all in agreement of that, and I knew there was something wrong, but I didn't do anything about it because I didn't care enough." Jack's finger finds its way to his lips and he gnaws on the edge of the nail, and no one stops him. "I didn't fucking care, and I feel like I could've stopped him before he got worse."

"Hey—" Zack puts a hand on his shoulder, and this time Jack doesn't shrug it off immediately. " _None_ of us did anything because we didn't know _what_ to do— He said he was fine, so there wasn't much we could do, because he's so stubborn. He still is being stubborn, so stop blaming yourself for that."

Jack sighs.

"Are you— Are you going to tell us the other thing?" Zack is still waiting for what Jack originally was going to tell them.

"...Yeah, yeah, okay hold on." He picks his phone back up, this time not stopping to read texts, only reading dates. "Okay, here. Just...just read this." He holds the phone up, not meeting either Rian or Zack's eyes.

 **Jack:** I don't think we should be together anymore, I'm tired

 **Alex:** oh

 **Alex:** okay...

 **Alex:** you can't just text me this Jack and keep leaving me on read can we talk about this at least

_*Missed call from Alex*_

_*Missed call from Alex*_

_*Missed call from Alex*_

**Alex:** can we talk jack please I'm going fucking insane right now

_*Call from Alex that lasted 2 minutes and 46 seconds*_

_*Missed call from Alex*_

_*Missed call from Alex*_

**Alex:** okay

It's not as bad as they were expecting, but Zack still eyes Jack. "What happened in that call?"

"I was a dick to him."

" _How_?"

"If you want the short version— He was crying, he was really fucking hurt, and he was the worst I'd ever seen him, or well, _heard_ him. Well, after yesterday, it's now the second worst, but— you know what I mean."

"Yeah. I do." Zack's voice is grim.

"And I was seriously worried that he was going to do something to himself."

"So?"

"So I— I told him to fuck off and I hung up."

"Jesus _fuck_ , why?"

"I don't know!"

"Jack!"

"I wasn't expecting him to react like that, okay? I didn't know how hard breaking up with people was. I didn't know how to deal with this, so I don't know how I was supposed to help him deal with it!""

"Jesus..." Rian sighs. "Okay. Okay, well that's between you and him, and I think you should work that out later, but right now, I think we need to find Alex. Okay?"

"Okay."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 🥳🥳 we updating!!! finally!!! 
> 
> fun fact there was originally supposed to be no self harm in this, and it was going to be a lot more based on the mgk song, and then i went hnnnnngh lemme just ✨project✨ onto Alex and it became this.  
> not mad abt it tho, it do be nice to vent through this fic
> 
> anyway stream Feel Better by Penelope Scott !! and have a good day/night 🥰


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> <3 in return for not updating for like a whole month, today i bring u a slightly longer than usual chapter !!

Alex finds himself sitting on a curb downtown.

He barely remembers walking here. Which sucks, because now he has no way to make it back to the tour bus. Not only that, he barely even remembers what city he's in.

Sure, he knows the information is somewhere in the back of his mind. But his brain has deemed it unimportant info, and it's been pushed aside to make room for other thoughts, which are now consuming him, eating him alive with every breath.

He has half a mind to stick his leg out into traffic, hope a car happens to run it over, because it would _hurt_ , and hurting is the only thing that makes any bit of sense.

If he really wanted to hurt, he could. Alone in a city this big, surrounded by stores that stock all kinds of sharp objects, it's impossibly easy.

But Alex doesn't _really_ want to hurt, not after it's gotten him into this mess, so digging his fingers into the gauze on his wrist is the absolute best he can bring himself to do.

His phone buzzes in his pocket. It's the rest of the members; he knows without having to look. Probably their manager too. Probably the whole crew, because they should be on their way to the next city right now, they should be continuing the tour. Everything should be going smoothly, and it would be, if Alex didn't have to fuck everything up and disappoint everyone.

Or maybe, if Zack hadn't grabbed his arm and found out.

If Rian hadn't made them cancel the tour.

If Jack didn't make him fucking feel like this.

_God, the buzzing of his phone is so fucking annoying._

He yanks it out, intending to just put it on silent. And he does, easily, but not before he's caught a glimpse of the messages awaiting him.

 **Rian (7):** where are you

 **Manager (3):** Where did you go?

 **Zack (5):** are you coming back to the bus?

There's only one message from Jack.

 **Jack:** god fucking damnit

Alex opens it, and regrets it a second later. The _Read_ notification has already popped up on Jack's screen and he can't take it back. Almost immediately, Jack is typing, having seen the notification, and Alex closes his messages quickly.

He doesn't want to read what else Jack has to say to him.

The message still pops up as a notification, and his eyes zoom in on the top of the screen, reading it.

 **Jack:** alex

 **Jack (2):** alex

 **Jack (3)** : alex

Alex watches as the number of messages increases, and he still can't bear to click on them. Just the first message, his name, is scary enough. God knows what comes after it. He puts his phone back in his pocket.

Fuck.

He stands up and steps away from the curb. His phone buzzes again.

(Stupid fucking phone, the silent setting doesn't even work.)

He walks down the sidewalk, crossing over into an alleyway.

It's now that he notices his missed calls. There are a lot more of those than texts.

Three from his manager. 5 from Rian. 4 from Zack.

One call from Jack. From two minutes ago.

He calls Zack back, leaning against a wall. As he waits for him to pick up, his right hand resumes digging into his left wrist, pulling his sleeve up to scratch at the gauze. It hurts. So does what he's about to do.

"Alex? Dude, where the hell are you?"

Alex clears his throat. "Dead."

"That's not fucking funny." Zack sounds exasperated, and Alex almost feels bad.

"Didn't say it was." Alex stares at the red spreading across his wrist. Fuck, he's bleeding. He wasn't trying to. (He doesn't _think_ he was trying to.)

"...Shit, dude, just tell us where you are. You okay?"

"I don't— I don't know where I am, okay? Some alleyway."

"Why'd you run off?"

"Stress."

"Alex."

"Look, you can stop interrogating me, okay, I didn't fuck up my arm again, do you guys really think I'm that fucking pathetic?"

There's silence on the other end, but Alex keeps rambling.

"Look, you took the fucking blade, okay, you got what you wanted from me. You got the tour cancelled, so we can all fucking go home." Alex yanks his sleeve back up. "I'll fucking go home. "

He ends the call and keeps walking. It's afternoon by now, and he knows he's going to have to come back to them sooner or later, but that's not something he's going to think about right now.

His phone buzzes.

Fuck.

He keeps walking. There's a sign in front of a building, advertising "the best bookstore in Houston", and he finally knows where he is. He vaguely recalls their concert here on the last tour; it was a good show. Houston is always good to them. God, he wants to perform here again. He wants to get up on that stage, hear the bass thrumming through his veins, taste his own sweat on the microphone. He misses performing, despite it only having been two days since the last one. But it feels like the last 48 hours have lasted forever.

"Are you Alex Gaskarth?"

Alex does not want to turn around.

"Hey!"

He turns around anyway.

There's a girl in a sweatshirt with the Future Hearts logo on it. Her eyes are big, probably at the prospect of actually seeing her idol in real life, and suddenly she takes a step back, hiding her hands behind her back.

"Oh— Oh shit, you _are_ Alex!"

Alex has yet to say anything to her.

"Um...Hi? Really big fan, I had tickets for last night's show, was super disappointed to see it got cancelled."

"Okay," Alex croaks, and he watches her face fall.

"Why was the show cancelled?"

"Stuff." Alex's arms find themselves crossed against his chest. "We were dealing with stuff." There's blood on his right hand, some that leaked through the gauze, and he prays to God that she doesn't notice it.

"Can I have an autograph?"

Alex's phone buzzes again, startling both of them. He ignores her and pulls it out of his pocket. More texts from Jack. He sighs and opens them.

 **Jack:** alex  
first of all where the fuck are you  
second of all that doesn't matter just get the fuck back here  
third of all   
they know about us

Alex drops his phone.

"Shit, are you okay?"

He picks his phone back up before she can, grimacing when he notices a long crack running diagonally through it. It still works, albeit barely, and he presses the Call button.

"Alex?

"Fuck off," He hisses at the girl. He's being rude as hell, and he knows it's going to bite him in the ass later, but that doesn't matter right now.

She wavers for a moment before finally taking a few steps back. She throws glances back at him, her eyes widened, but he doesn't meet her glances, because Jack has finally picked up his phone.

"What?"

"Not even going to say hi?"

"Alex, where the hell are you?"

"Not why I called."

Jack groans.

"What the fuck do you mean they know?"

"I told them."

"You fucking told them what?"

"About _us_."

" _What_ about us?"

"Everything."

" _Why?_ " 

"They wanted to know, Alex. And unlike you, I don't lie to my friends."

Alex stops in the middle of the sidewalk. "I didn't lie to anyone."

"Then what the _hell_ have you been doing to us for the past few months?"

"I didn't lie." He repeats.

"You've been telling us that you were fine, that we had absolutely nothing to worry about, and you made me feel like a fucking idiot for worrying this entire time, and I was so scared that maybe I was wrong, that I should've backed off."

"You should've."

Jack groans. They can run in circles arguing for as long as they want, it doesn't change anything that's already happened.

"Where are you, Lex?"

Alex looks around for some clue. He finds a street sign, and reads the name off. Then for good measure, he describes the building next to him.

"Can I come get you?" 

Even after all this, when it shouldn't even be a question, when Alex doesn't deserve any autonomy at all for destroying himself like this, Jack still gives him that autonomy, lets him answer for himself.

Alex nods, before remembering Jack can't see him. "Please."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi haha im back  
> never rlly left, just got caught up in writing some other things and my inspiration for this fic kinda took a nosedive and i didn't know where this was going  
> i kinda know where it's going now tho :') 
> 
> anyway ily all, stream life goes on by bts <3


	20. Chapter 20

Alex isn't hard to find.

He's still in the same spot on the sidewalk, hasn't moved at all. Almost frozen. It's how Jack can tell it's him— not by the familiar grey hoodie, not by the dark hair poking out of the hood, not by his stature or the way one hand is gripping the other wrist, like if he lets go of it he'll fall apart.

By the way that he doesn't fucking move.

Jack is still a good ten feet away before he yells "Alex!", and as his footsteps quicken, they just as quickly slow down to a halt, and then he's right in front of Alex. "Alex?" He repeats.

"Hey." Alex's voice is quiet.

Jack zeroes in on the blood smeared across his hand. "You okay?"

"I didn't mean to, okay!" Alex wipes his hand on his jeans, suddenly avoiding Jack's eyes. "It bled through the gauze."

"Okay." Jack sounds skeptical. Not that he means to. He trusts Alex. Or, well, he _wants_ to trust Alex. And he wants that to be enough, but it isn't, because when it comes down to it, he's still terrified as hell.

"I didn't mean to," Alex repeats, just to nail that fact through Jack's head. He didn't mean it. He didn't mean any of this.

"It's okay, Lex. Come on, we gotta go back."

"I don't _want_ to go back."

"Lex— Why did you want me to come pick you up then? What's the point?"

_"I don't know."_

Alex kicks at a rock on the sidewalk, kicking it out into the street. It disappears under a car. Just like any answers he could possibly have for Jack. How does he even explain it? It's the knowledge that he will inevitably end up back at the tour bus, because if he doesn't want to hitchhike home from Houston, it's the only way he's getting out of here, and at the same time, the clear knowledge that while it may be inevitable, it will certainly not be enjoyable.

"Does it have to be right this second?" The sun is still bright in the sky, a few hours left before it begins to set. He figures their schedule has been thrown to hell, because the only thing dictating it in the first place was the shows, and now that those have been removed (as a cruel sort of punishment for him), they're almost free. _Almost._

"...Guess not." Jack gives in reluctantly, despite the fact that he doesn't even know quite what he's giving into. "What did you want to do?"

"Get somewhere where people aren't fucking looking at me."

"Where's that?"

Alex vaguely points at a building across the street. "There?"

"No." Jack doesn't even look.

"Come on, Jack," Alex pleads. He points again, and this time Jack turns his head. "I'm tired. I'm stressed. You probably fucking are too. Can we just relax? For like an hour _at least_?"

He's pointing at what must be a club, Jack guesses, by the bright lights coming from inside. There's music coming from inside, a smooth beat that ripples through the air easily. It's surprising that it's open this early, before it's even gotten dark outside, but maybe that's how they do things in Texas.

"Alex—"

Alex is already walking off. "Don't know why the fuck I'm asking for your permission— I'm an adult." He tosses a glare over his shoulder. And he's right, but that doesn't stop Jack from following him inside, because adult or not, he cares, and that's really his only motivation for anything anymore

The smooth beat has morphed into a hard hitting rap song, one Jack vaguely remembers from flicking through radio stations. He doesn't remember it enough to know the name though, this time of music has never been his thing. If it had, he probably would've become a rapper, not a guitarist in a subpar pop-punk band.

Of course, he has the shitty luck to have already lost Alex, despite there being a maximum of thirty people in the building. It's a relatively small club. But the number of males with brunette hair is more than he expects, even more when he remembers that he himself is included in that demographic as well.

He walks right by the bar, because being drunk is the last thing he needs. Or maybe being sober is, because he feels too much, and for a second, he wonders if this is how Alex feels, if this is why he takes things out on himself— to numb his emotions down.

Jack needs to stop thinking. Right the fuck now.

"Hey," Someone says to him, "You here with anyone?"

"Yeah, my..."

Jack doesn't know how the hell to finish that sentence.

He considers texting Alex to ask him where he is, but he doubts Alex will even answer it.

He texts Rian though.

 **Jack:** i found alex

 **Rian:** yeah ?? well bring him the fuck back

 **Jack:** can't uhhh quite do that

 **Rian:** why the hell not

 **Jack:** there are complications

 **Rian:** what complications

 **Jack:** i lost him

 **Rian:** you w h a t

 **Jack:** in a club

 **Rian:** what the hell are you doing in a club with him

 **Jack:** i followed him here

 **Rian:** so our manager is yelling at ME, because alex wanted to get a lap dance ??

 **Jack:** NOT THAT KIND OF CLUB

 **Rian:** oh got it. anyway bring him back.

 **Jack:** yeah i know

There's a Post Malone song playing over the speakers now.

_"Hunnid bands in my pocket, it's on me_  
_Hunnid deep when I roll like the army_  
_Get more bottles, these bottles are lonely."_

Jack mumbles the lyrics under his breath as he makes his way through the club.

_"It's a moment when I show up, got 'em sayin', 'Wow.'"_

Still no Alex to be seen.

Maybe he left without Jack noticing. He pulls his phone back out, just as the door to the restrooms opens on the other side of the room. The male restroom.

And there's Alex stumbling out, his arm slung around someone. A male. Even across the room, Jack can see that Alex's neck is dotted with purple splotches, his lips bruised red. Marks on him. Marks that Jack didn't give him.

Sure, it's been a bit of time since Jack has given him some, but that doesn't make him hate the scene any less. Possibly makes him hate it even more.

The song has changed without him realizing it, already well into the next one.

_"It's gettin' hard to fake how I feel when your face still taunts me_  
_I know it's hard to fake how you feel, do you not still want me?"_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hi!! didn't mean for this chapter to take so long!! got busy w updating another fic oopsie !!
> 
> also am updating on my tablet for once instead of my laptop at 11 pm at night so if there's any mistakes i'll fix it in the morning
> 
> lyrics at end are from waste love by mgk
> 
> also i have a cc now 🥺   
>  [my curiouscat!](https://curiouscat.me/fvckingangelic)


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i wasn't going to post this today but then i found out through twitter that today is alex's birthday so earlier update than planned :]

Alex makes his way across the room. His feet don't drag on the floor, and that's how Jack knows that he's still sober. Which should be good— Alex destroying himself in any more ways is the last thing he needs. But it still hurts, because it just hammers in the fact that this wasn't a mistake; Alex is one hundred percent conscious of what he's done.

Up close, standing in front of him, Alex's reddened lips are even more visible. It's only emphasized by the way Alex is gnawing on them. The arm is still slung around his shoulder, and Jack follows it to see the owner of it staring at him. His hair is bright, multicolored, and Jack wants to rip it out at the roots. _Who the hell is this?_

"What?" The man asks, seemingly annoyed with the way Jack is looking at Alex. As if in such a short period of time he's already lain claim to Alex. But he can't do that, not when Jack's claim is already so fragile.

"Nothing." Jack grits his teeth, because clearly this guy doesn't get what he's doing, _what he's already done_. He can already see Alex's eyes boring into him, silently screaming "You're not the boss of me," and he isn't, he knows that. But that doesn't stop him from wishing he was, just so that this wouldn't be happening right now.

"This is Awsten," Alex clarifies.

Jack barely hears him, his gaze still fixated on his lips.

"He's in a band too, and he's actually from around here." Alex jerks a finger, presumably meaning to point to the city of Houston as a whole. It only points to the wall though, a thick plaster slab with peeling wallpaper, and Jack bites back a laugh.

"Mm." Awsten affirms Alex's words.

It's now that Jack notices Awsten's lips as well, a mirror of Alex's. He wonders if they were fit back together, if it would match— almost like a sort of puzzle. It's a puzzle that he doesn't think he ever wants to attempt.

"We gotta head back to the bus, Lex," He says, ignoring the look Awsten is shooting him.

"No we don't."

Jack grits his teeth. "We're behind schedule." They're not, there being no schedule _at all_ , but he figures it's a lie Alex won't call him out on, because then he'll have to explain to Awsten _why_ they don't have a schedule.

It's a tiny bit cruel. If looks could kill, Jack would already be six feet deep in the ground.

Alex detaches from Awsten. "Fine," He groans. "You got my number anyway, Aws."

_Aws._

God, Jack could fucking kill him.

Alex doesn't say anything else as he follows Jack out of the club and down the sidewalk. Surprisingly, he doesn't protest returning to the tour bus anymore. He falls back a few feet behind Jack, because being right next to him feels off.

"What? You don't have anything to say?" He finally says.

"I don't know what I'm supposed to say." Jack rounds a corner.

"Well you were saying a lot of shit before, and now you're not."

Jack doesn't know how to respond to that, and his pace decreases enough for Alex to catch up, and now they're walking side by side.

Alex looks at him. "Whatever." He drops the subject.

Just as quickly, Jack wants him to bring it back up again, because he isn't done with this conversation and he doesn't think Alex is either, and unconsciously, his hand reaches out.

Alex doesn't take it.

They enter the tour bus.

"Alex!" Zack tugs him into a hug, despite his groans, but he reluctantly throws his arms around Zack. When they pull apart, he asks, "Hey...can you like not do that again?"

"Not making any promises," Alex mumbles, and maybe it's supposed to be a joke, but Zack still shoots Jack a worried look.

Alex has pulled his collar up to hide his neck, so no one comments on it, and Jack is thankful for that, because he knows what they would assume.

His lips are still stained though, and no one mentions that either. Maybe it's only noticeable to Jack. Jack, who wants to drag his thumb against the marks, part Alex's lips himself.

He is so fucked.

Alex makes eye contact with him, and Jack is quick to pull his gaze up to meet it. Just for Alex's gaze to sink down to Jack's lips in return, the corner of his mouth quirking up on the right side, and Jack doesn't know what it means and he doesn't want to ask.

Then he catches sight of blood flakes still lingering on Alex's fingers, and all he wants to do is ask.

The air in the bus is tense, feelings suspended in it. Usually it's clouded with excitement, desperation to get back on stage, and there's none of that now, just anxiety and the smell of blood.

Jack can't shake the blood that keeps fucking following them everywhere.

Alex is scrolling through his phone, and when Jack catches a glimpse, he sees that it's Instagram. More specifically, notifications on Instagram. And he wants to reach a hand out and stop Alex, because he knows firsthand how bad comments can get. Especially now that they've just cancelled a tour that was supposed to be one of their biggest. People are going to be pissed, and rightfully so. Jack himself hasn't looked at social media since it was announced, except for retweeting the notice from the band's official Twitter account onto his own page.

Alex keeps scrolling.

Jack pulls out his own phone to read the comments, see exactly what he's looking at. It doesn't take long to pull up their latest post, which is just a screenshot of the twitter announcement.

_ripoff._

_too self absorbed to want to see their own fans_

_why haven't they explained anything? it's weird_

😭😭

_what's going on?_

_are we getting refunds?_

_this was the only thing i was looking forward to all year_

_no advance notice ?? at all ??_

_what the hell_

_???????_

"Lex—"

Alex looks up, seeing Jack also with his phone in his hand, and their screens displaying similar content. He realizes what Jack is looking at, that he sees what Alex sees. He bites his lip and it looks like it hurts, the way his teeth drag along it.

"It's my fault for all of this."

"It's not."

"It is," Alex argues, and something in his tone makes Jack drop the subject. It's not like he's wrong.

But it still doesn't mean he deserves this. Sure, it's not the worst comments in the world, but it's not exactly nice either.

Jack groans.

Maybe they were wrong to cancel the tour. Maybe it's stupid, because all they want to do is help Alex and this how he acts in return, and maybe they were wrong, okay, maybe they were fucking wrong. But what are they supposed to do? Take the post back and go, "Oh, actually, tour is back on!" Go back out on stage, and pray to God that Alex isn't hurting himself again, because he doesn't think that any of them have the stomach to actually confront him again?

At least with the tour over, that stress is taken away. That has to help, right?

Jack wonders if it's even worth it.

Has anything they've done helped at all?

There's a message notification at the top of Alex's screen, and Jack leans closer to read it but Alex swipes it away before he can see.

The contact name started with an A though, so he has a pretty good idea of who it is.

Alex can see the expression on his face without even having to look, and he bites his lip harder, teeth sinking deep into the flesh.

"Don't."

It's the last thing Alex says to him for the rest of the tour.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy birthday alex <3 sorry i project onto you so fucking much in this fic lmao
> 
> anyway stream take cover, my favorite all time low song <3   
> (well actually it's tied with the girl's a straight up hustler and under a paper moon haha)
> 
> also there's going to be a timeskip between this and the next chapter so i hope y'all are ready 😎


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i promise i did NOT mean to disappear for this long but i got very into playing minecraft over the past month and kinda lost track of where i was going with this
> 
> sorry lol i'm trying my best if ur still reading this fic then ty for sticking around & enjoy this chapter!!

_where has @/alexgaskarth been ??_

_@/JackBarakat @/ZackMerrick @/RianDawson @/AllTimeLow is alex ok ??? he hasn't been active online in months ????? @/alexgaskarth ??????_

_#alexwemissyou @/alexgaskarth_

_@/alexgaskarth not like the band needed you anyway_

_@/alexgaskarth hey come back online lol_

Going through his Twitter mentions was a fucking mistake.

It's something Alex does a few times a week, and every time he regrets it more. Doesn't even know the point of it, because it's not like he's going to respond to any of them. Not like he cares to see what his friends have been tweeting about, because if they wanted him to know what was going on in their life that much, they would just text him.

And judging by the lack of texts he's gotten, they _don't_ want him to know. Which isn't surprising, and Alex doesn't care to know all that much either, but it hurts all the same.

He tosses the phone onto his coffee table, not even bothering to close out of the app. He's in his apartment in Baltimore. It's been three months since the tour ended. Three months since he ruined everything.

Between him and his bandmates, he can't tell who's ghosting who. They don't make much effort to start conversation, but neither does Alex. They exchange a few "Hey! How you doing!" messages occasionally, but every time, the conversation fizzles out in under twenty minutes and then he's left staring at a screen void of notifications.

Jack texts him the least. 

Not that he blames him for it.

They don't even talk about music, about when the next album is coming out, if they've written any cool guitar riffs or lyrics. The things they should be talking about, because without it, what's their career? What's left of them?

Alex has written some music. It's all he does, the main form of communication he's been using ever since he picked up a guitar in middle school. The easiest way to say things. They don't ask him for it though, and he's glad for that, because if he shared any of it, it would be the last thing they want to hear.

They ask him if he's okay. They ask him if he's been taking care of himself, if he needs anything. They dance around the same topic every time they text him, but they never say it directly.

They never ask him if he's still hurting himself. And he shouldn't hold it against them, because it isn't like he would tell the truth if they did.

Them finding out was embarrassing enough, he knows admitting it himself would be even more so. Besides, what are they going to do? None of them live near each other anymore, not like they used to. They can't take his blades now, and God knows he has a lot of them, a stack stored in his bathroom drawer, all bought in the past few months.  
  
It's not something they need to know anyway.

It's stupid, and if how they reacted is anything to go by, they do need to know, because that what people who care about you are like, right? They need to know if you're okay, because if you're not, they're supposed to fix that.

But none of them have ever fixed anything, because if they had, Alex's arms wouldn't still be streaked with red, threatening to bubble up at the surface of his skin, dripping onto his bathroom floor a few nights a week.

It's not as deep as he was going before. It's lighter, softer, so somehow he can convince himself that it's better, even though the only thing better than hurting yourself is not doing it at all.

He doesn't know why the hell he's even doing it anymore.

What was he so stressed about before? Jack? Well now Jack's halfway across the country. 

Awsten is too.

He hasn't texted Awsten once since hooking up with him, and neither has Awsten. Not that he actually expected Awsten to care about him. It was stupid. But maybe Alex has an affinity for stupid things, with his habit of screwing himself over constantly.

He doesn't even like Awsten. Sure, he likes his lips all over his neck, and his arms wrapped around his neck, and his thigh brushing against his dick, but it's not anything unique to Awsten himself.

He liked it even better when he closed his eyes and pretended it was Jack instead.

Now though, he doesn't have anything to pretend to be Jack, with the exception of his own fucking hand. Which will never feel as good as Jack's did, so he doesn't know why he even tries.

It doesn't stop him from trying though, so when his brain gets filled up with too many thoughts, threatening to spill over, he stops thinking and just does it, because it's the easiest and least painful way to feel some kind of euphoria, even if it's just for a few minutes.

He isn't thinking when he unzips his pants and grabs his phone off the table, even less so when he hits record and tilts the camera down. It's awkward at first, and it's a struggle to even get hard, knowing that the scene is being saved on his phone right now.

He does get hard though, soon enough, and then he forces himself to ignore the weight in his right hand as he strokes himself with his left. 

Jack texts him halfway through, the notification popping up at the top of his screen, above the recording, and he frustratingly swipes it away. Doesn't even care to check what the message says.

He can't hold himself back from whimpering Jack's name as he works himself, and there's no reason for him to even try to hold it back. No one is here to hear him. It's just him, and his stupid phone that he doesn't even know why he's recording with in the first place.

He does know though deep down, he isn't recording this for no reason, and it only becomes even more clear when he finishes and ends the video. Doesn't bother to clean himself up yet, because that can wait a few minutes, instead he swipes to his messages.

Clicks on Jack's.

 **Jack:** you doing okay?

Alex attaches the video he just took, captions it with "No", and presses send before chucking his phone against the wall. If the cracking noise is anything to go by, he's going to need a few hundred dollars if he wants to text Jack again anytime soon.

He has the money, so it's not an issue. But it's also not something he's planning on fixing anytime soon, would rather wait as long as physically possible before seeing Jack's response to that.

Because what the fuck even is that? What the fuck has he done? He's thrown a grenade in the middle of the calm, ready to uproot the quiet that their relationship has succumbed to, because the only ways he knows to cope are to hurt himself, and to hurt others.

And the former always ends up doing the latter.

He stares at the phone, now laying on the ground, screen face-down so he can't see how bad the damage is yet.

He's screwed himself over again and he can't even bring himself to do anything but laugh as he heads to take a shower, to wash away both the white stains and the disgust coating every inch of him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> woahhhhhh so much angst i'm so sorry haha
> 
> stream demidevil by ashnikko <3


	23. Chapter 23

Alex waits an entire week before he buys a new phone. Or, to be more precise, six days and two hours. 

It's surprisingly easier to function without a phone then he thought it would be. He has a computer of course, so the internet isn't entirely out of his grasp. And he doesn't leave his house very much anyway, so having a mobile phone isn't that necessary.

But he knows he can't ignore his friends forever. As much as it would seemingly make his life easier.

The employee at the Apple Store asks him what happened to his old one as she switches his phone number and data over, running a finger over the cracked screen. Her voice is raspy and deep, and Alex has to ask her to repeat the question.

"I asked what happened to it."

"I dropped it on the sidewalk."

"It's past the warranty, so this one won't be covered."

"Yeah, I know."

"Should put a case on it this time."

"Sure." And when the phone is finally in his hands, he even goes over and buys one of the cases on display, one that goes for twenty dollars, despite the fact that he finds it fucking hideous. He'll probably take it off as soon as he gets home.

Only he doesn't take it off, because as soon as he's back inside his house, he locks the door and he deposits himself on the floor of his hallway, leaning against the wall.

There's fourteen missed calls. Eight of which are from Jack.

And even more messages, and he almost doesn't want to click on them. 

He _doesn't_ want to click on them.

So he calls Jack.

No answer, and for a split second he's ecstatic, because if he can't talk to Jack, then he doesn't have to deal with this. Hell, he can forget Jack ever existed.

Then his phone rings and Jack's number flashes across the screen.

And all Alex can do is stare at it like a deer caught in headlights. Like _he's_ been caught. Which is stupid, ( _right?)_ , because he threw himself into the road in the first place. The crash shouldn't come as a surprise.

It rings for too long, and it goes to voicemail.

Then it rings again.

He can't ignore the phone calls forever so he brings the phone to his ear.

"Yeah?" His voice is soft, barely even recognizably, and for a brief second he hopes Jack won't even recognize it, will think he has the wrong number.

But he does. Because it's Jack, and he's fucking stupid if he thought Jack could ever forget anything about him.

Jack's voice sounds pained as it comes through the phone. "First of all, Lex, where the hell have you been... and second of all... do I even want to know what the hell that was?"

"No." Alex's voice is quiet. Too quiet.

"What?"

"No, you don't," And his voice is harder now, dripping with anger, and he doesn't even know where it's come from but it's now at the forefront of his tongue and it tastes bitter.

"Lex." Jack doesn't sound hurt anymore, now it's turned to concern. "Are you okay?"

There's a speck of blood on Alex's thumb and he stares at it. "I don't know."

"Lex?"

He explodes. "What the fuck do you want me to say?"

"I want the truth."

"Yeah, but do you really? Do you want to know that I'm still hurting myself, I never really stopped, because you guys fucking sucked at trying to stop me?"

Jack inhales, maybe preparing his response, but Alex isn't done.

"And I feel like the most selfish fucking person, even just admitting it, like I'm just looking for attention, and I'm not, but at the same time, maybe I am, because I'm just sick of being like this. Maybe that's what the video fucking meant, Jack. Maybe, I hate myself for what I've done to us, and I don't have anything to do other than take it out on you, because I've been taking it out on myself for so long, and look where that's gotten me."

"It's not your fault, Lex."

Alex stares at the wall. "Who the fuck's fault is it then?"

"No one's. Everyone's. Look, you can't put all the blame on yourself Alex. Hell, I don't want you to put _any_ of it on yourself, because I know that you can't handle it. Stop blaming yourself, okay? That doesn't do anything good."

"I can handle it," He whispers, just to get shot down immediately.

"Alex, I mean this in the least offensive way possible, but no the fuck you can't."

"Yeah, okay, whatever." He knows he can't argue with it, but he so desperately wants to.

"Lex?"

He groans. "Yeah?"

"You said you were still hurting yourself."

And suddenly Alex wishes he never picked up the goddamned phone, because he's scared, and he doesn't even know what he's scared of.

Maybe it's not even fear.

Maybe it's just embarrassment, embarrassment that Alex is still doing this to himself, embarrassed that he didn't magically stop as soon as the band found out, embarrassed that for whatever godforsaken reason, he likes hurting himself.

Or maybe he is just scared of his own self-destruction. He's right to be.

"Mm," Is all he says.

"How bad?"

He almost explodes on Jack again because how the fuck is he supposed to know what's "bad" or not? He's the one with a fucked perception of it, if he's willingly doing it to himself, so for all he knows, it isn't bad at all. 

He doesn't explode though, because he can hear how honest to God terrified Jack sounds.

"Not as bad." He elaborates: "I mean like— Not as bad as on the tour. Not that, um, deep."

"Okay."

There's still fear in Jack's voice, and Alex realizes he really can't blame him at all for that, because he's hurting himself. He's fucking hurting himself. And maybe he can't grasp the full severity of it, how fucking sad it is, but he knows that Jack can grasp it.

"Sorry," He says sheepishly.

"No! Alex— Fuck, you don't have to say sorry. Especially not to me. If anything, you should say it to yourself."

"Sorry," He says again, and it sounds so empty now, because how the hell do you apologize to yourself? More than that, how do you _forgive_ yourself, when you still can't even fully grasp what you've done?

"Lex, can I come over?"

Jack doesn't live that far from him; It's something he should have remembered earlier. 

He wants to say no. But he doesn't have an excuse anymore, does he?

Doesn't matter if Jack sees what he's done to himself, because he already knows that it's been done. Doesn't matter if he can't keep up a happy facade, because he gave that up when this conversation started. He doesn't have anything to hide from Jack anymore, so there's reason for him to deny it.

Alex stalls. "You want to come over?" 

"Yeah."

"Why?" 

This whole conversation is the reason why, he knows it even before Jack answers.

"Just wanna see you."

"I guess."

"Yeah?"

"Can it be tomorrow?" Today has drained all of the energy out of Alex, he doesn't think he can take anymore.

"Yeah, of course. Whenever you want."

"Okay."

"Also, you should text the guys. They asked me if I knew why you were ghosting them, so I think they'll be relieved to hear that you're not dead."

Alex swallows. _Did_ they think he was dead? 

"Okay." Is all he says, and adds "Bye," before hanging up on Jack.

He opens his texts.

 **Alex:** sorry broke my phone bc i'm an idiot. I'm not dead. 

**Alex:** kinda wish I was though.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello whats up how do we feel abt the new chapter <3
> 
> stream forever fifteen by mothica bc i've been nonstop crying to it.


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